Learning to love another
by JustPlugMeIn
Summary: Sherlock is suddenly responsible for someone else other than himself. (Takes place after John and Mary's marriage.) I'm obsessed with Benedict Cumberbatch, Sherlock and babies...and, from my obsession, is where this story was born. Rated K for now, rating may change later on. Not your typical Sherlock; I've tried to not change him too much but, in this, he's a family man.
1. Chapter 1

**Sherlock Holmes**

Sherlock Holmes stared across the room and at a girl, who was almost buried beneath a mountain of blankets; the story she'd told him seemed completely made up, fictitious and idiotic but Sherlock could tell that every word that had come out of her mouth had been nothing but the truth and as he surveyed her, carefully reading everything he could, came to realise that, even though this wasn't the case he'd been expecting, it was just the thing he needed.

It had been an infuriating few weeks for Sherlock Holmes; things had been quiet around London and no crimes or weird happenings had needed him to be solved. Even Lestrade hadn't needed him, as useless as he is when it comes to solving police crimes and, with John accepting more hours at the clinic, he'd been going almost out of his mind with boredom.

The girl, beneath the blankets, had claimed that the baby she'd brought with her was his; she'd told him that nine months or so ago they'd gotten drunk, slept together and then parted ways. The idea of him having sexual relations with someone was preposterous but even he couldn't deny the memory of waking up beside her, around the time she'd mentioned, and having no memory of the night before.

It was hard to admit but this was a case that didn't really need solving; unless he requested a DNA test and it turned out to be false.

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but the girl jumped in before him. "I'm sorry, Mr Holmes, I wouldn't bother you at all but I'm not going to be around for much longer and I have no one else to take care of her when I'm gone."

"Gone?" He frowned "Where are you going?"

"To a place where most people can't follow" she replied. "I'm going to die, Mr Holmes, soon; too soon for my liking but there's nothing I can do to stop it."

Of course Sherlock had already deduced that she has terminal cancer and the most time she had left was barely more than a couple of weeks; her body had already begun to shut down, her immune system was obviously not working and her body wasn't creating any warmth. She was skin and bone, ready to fall at not even a moment's notice.

"That's why I was out clubbing" she admitted "I'd received the news and was determined to have a good time before the inevitable happened; I'd given up all hopes of having children when I was first diagnosed so when I found out that I was pregnant-" the girl paused, biting her lower lip "I couldn't let them kill her; it would have been my biggest regret. They gave me pills to help but warned me that her chance of survival was even less than mine if I hung on long enough to give birth."

"So a termination was out of the question" Sherlock stated "but what would have happened if you'd died during the birth?"

"I'm going to die anyway" she claimed "at least she would have a chance; Sherlock, Joan is my legacy." The dying girl glanced affectionately down at the pink Moses basket which was sitting beside the chair.

Sherlock frowned "Joan, who is Joan?" Also glancing at the basket but, as the hood was up, could not see inside it.

"My baby, I named her after myself."

"Well that's going to change" he told her. "No child of mine, if she _is_ mine, will most certainly not be called Joan; there should be a law against it!"

"All I need to know, Mr Holmes, is that you'll take care of her when I'm gone."

Sherlock stared at Joan and, knowing that she wouldn't leave until he'd given her his word, said "if, and I mean _if_, the child is mine I will ensure that she will be taken care of."

The girl seemed at a loss for words but said nothing more as she drifted off to sleep.

**John Watson**

The clinic had been quiet all day which had been lucky for John because he'd fallen asleep in his chair with his legs propped up on his desk; his flatmate, Sherlock, hadn't been able to sleep…something John put down to the fact that things were also very quiet at home. Sherlock hadn't had a case for a good few weeks and that _always_ irritated the detective.

John had hunted around the messages, left on the website, looking for something interesting for his friend but, every time he found one that looked even remotely complicated, Sherlock would solve it without even needing to leave the flat.

So now Sherlock was bored, irritated and very annoying which meant that John wouldn't get a restful night's sleep until his detective, intellectual, friend had been sated.

A loud buzz followed by "Mr Watson!" jolted John from his slumber. He hit the button to the intercom, which was on his desk, and said "yes, what is it?"

"There's a Mr Holmes for you on line one."

John sighed, rubbing his eyes; he'd wondered how long it would take for Sherlock to start calling him at work. "Thanks, I've got it."

He released the button, picked up the phone and, before he could even take a breath, the person said "John, John! Are you there? Are you ok? I've texted you ten times, why haven't you answered?"

"Sherlock, I'm at work!"

"and I'm where you really need to be" Sherlock replied before shouting "HOME, NOW!" and hanging up.

It took a moment for the ringing in John's ears to fade before he replaced the phone back in its cradle and pulled out his phone to find that he did had ten text messages from Sherlock;

_1:00pm 'Bored - SH'_

_1:30pm 'I'm bored, John! - SH'_

_3:00pm 'When are you getting home? - SH'_

_3:01pm 'There's no tea bags and I've lost Mrs Hudson - SH'_

_4:00pm 'Interesting case, get home now! - SH' _

_4:25pm 'Where are you? - SH'_

_4:30pm 'Hurry up, John! - SH'_

_4:50pm 'Get home now! - SH'_

_4:59pm 'In case you've forgotten the address it's 221B Baker Street; hurry up! - SH'_

_5:00pm 'Oh and we've run out of milk - SH'_

No wonder he'd been so irritable on the phone, he'd finally found a case to satisfy his ever increasing appetite for crime. John glanced at the clock; 5:05pm, it was quitting time anyway so, with a deep sigh, he heaved himself up from his chair, grabbed his coat and bag from the back of the door and left, waving goodbyes to his colleagues on his way out.

When he finally walked into the flat, he could hear Sherlock pacing the room above him as he spoke loudly on the phone. _"What do you mean 'not now'? This is a matter of the utmost urgency and I require your services!" _There was a short pause before _"Yes, but this time there is a body!"_ There was another pause before a bang as something, John assumed was Sherlock's phone, hit the floor and slid across it. Now that Sherlock wasn't shouting, John could also hear a noise that he could only describe as a baby crying.

"Good day at work, John?" Mrs Hudson asked, appearing in the hall with a couple of bin bags.

"Quiet" was all he said as he frowned up at the ceiling. "How long has he been shouting and what the hell is making that noise?"

"Oh, I don't know" she replied "a girl went up there a few hours ago but he didn't start shouting until about five minutes ago. John, what's going on?"

Sighing, John shrugged "I don't know but I'd better go and find out before he wears a hole in the ceiling and falls through."

"JOHN, IF THAT'S YOU, GET UP HERE NOW!" Sherlock bellowed.

"He doesn't miss a trick does he?" Mrs Hudson commented "well, you'd better get up there, John. Good luck."

"Thanks, Mrs Hudson." Grimaced John before climbing up the stairs toward the flat he shared with, the high functioning sociopath he calls, his best friend.

As soon as John entered the living room the first thing he noticed was the obviously dead woman who was sitting in his usual chair; the second was Sherlock Holmes pacing the room with a baby, bawling fit to burst, in his arms. The baby looked no older than three months and was dressed in a vile pink dress.

"Please, _god,_ Sherlock, please don't tell me that you killed that girl and _stole_ her baby!"

"Of course not!" Sherlock snapped back, striding over to John and dumping the baby in to his arms. As soon as John had positioned the baby correctly, she stopped crying and John couldn't help but coo at her. "She's my daughter, now, if you don't mind, I need to call the morgue…again."

"Hang on" John had to do a double take at the words 'my daughter' "what do you mean _your daughter_?" As far as he knew, Sherlock was an asexual virgin.

"It's a long story but, in short, there's a night about nine months ago that I don't remember and _Joan_" he grimaced at the name "was the result; of course I'll be having a paternity test done on her and then we'll go from there."

"So, let me get this right" John was starting to let a smile creep onto his face as he rocked Joan "you got drunk, had sex and can't even remember? So…you have a baby but, in your head, you're still a virgin?"

"Stop smirking, John" Sherlock snapped "it doesn't suit you but, more or less, yes."

John looked down at the baby and began to stare back and forth between her and Sherlock, noting the resemblances. Same colour eyes, same nose, same hair colour…"oh, she's definitely yours, mate!" he laughed "tell me, do you make the same expression when you're doing a poo?"

Frowning, Sherlock peered at the baby who was indeed pulling the same face he used when emptying his bowls. "I don't usually watch myself when I'm on the toilet." He retorted.

"You do!" John laughed "Oh, Sherlock, you are way out of your head on this one, mate!"


	2. Chapter 2

Joan was laying on the mat, playing with a toy Mrs Hudson had found; she was waving her chubby hands in the air as she tried to touch the soft animals, dangling from the mobile above her. Mr Hudson, John, Mary, Sherlock and Lestrade were all staring at the infant as though she was the strangest thing they'd ever seen; well, considering that she was in Sherlock's flat, it probably was the strangest thing they'd ever seen and Sherlock liked to refrigerate severed body parts.

"So she's yours" Greg Lestrade said for the fifth time "and her name is Joan."

"Her name is _not_ Joan but yes, according to the paternity test, she's mine." Sherlock had taken the baby to Molly the next morning and requested that she ran the blood sample he'd taken before they left…

**Molly**

"Sherlock!" Molly gasped in shock as she took in the tall, slender, magnificent looking man who had a baby strapped to his chest.

"Hello, Molly, keep the comments to yourself and run these for me" he handed over two corked vials of blood, one labelled 'b' and one labelled 'S'.

"Uh" she stuttered "what for?"

"I need a paternity test" he sighed as though the conversation was already boring him. "I just need to know if the two are related in any way."

Molly stared at the vials, taking in their labels; she guessed that the 'S' stood for 'Sherlock' but "'b'?" she asked.

"Baby."

"So this is your blood and her blood?"

"Comments, Molly, keep them to yourself" he stared at her for a moment, cocking his head to one side "where's your usually bright red lipstick?"

"I didn't know that you were coming so I didn't put it on" she blushed.

Sherlock smirked "good, I don't like it. Now chop, chop; I'm in a hurry." Molly just stood there, taking Sherlock in, and admiring how much more desirable he looked with a baby in tow and, even though he wasn't really holding her, he had one of his large hands supporting her head. "Come on!" He urged her, snapping her out of her daze "sometime today would be nice!"

"Sorry." Molly apologised quickly before disappearing into another room and handed the blood vials to Fred. "This takes priority" she told him "I need a paternity test done."

"Sure, give me about half an hour" Fred told her with a smile.

Molly smiled back; she liked Fred, he was much older than she but he was charming and, according to some of the photo's she'd seen of his younger self, used to be quite handsome. "Thank you; I'll be back in about half an hour then." When she walked back into the main lab she found that the baby now had clasped both of her fists clasped around his index fingers. She paused in the doorway, smiling.

"Shut up" Sherlock finally said without needing to look up.

"I didn't say anything" she replied.

"You didn't need to."

"Sorry" she grinned before saying "should be ready in half an hour."

"That long?" Sherlock grimaced "a baboon could do it faster!"

Molly gave a nervous chuckle before staring at the baby and gasping as she noticed the similarities between the child and the man. "So, erm, Sherlock; does she have a name?"

"No" he replied shortly "well yes but I'm changing it."

"From what, to what?"

Sherlock slowly turned his gaze to the woman who was asking too many questions and surveyed her carefully. Molly Hooper is irritatingly chirpy, naturally inquisitive and way too interest in him. He couldn't understand why her eyes would light up whenever he turns up; at John's wedding, he'd admitted that he is uncomprehending to human emotions and oblivious to beauty but, to him, Molly was about as plain as they come; but then so was everyone. He sighed and tried to be a bit more understanding even though understanding _normal_ people was almost impossible. "Joan" he finally told her "but I don't know what I'm going to change it to."

"Yeah, I see why you'd want to change it" Molly smiled "Joan is an old lady's name. So, how did you…erm…get her?"

"Her mother turned up last night and then died so, depending on the paternity test, I have sole custody of her."

Molly stared at him, trying to work out if he was being serious or not but then had to remind herself that Sherlock doesn't know how to joke. "She _died_?"

"Yes, cancer; the morgue thought I was playing them around and so getting her body collected was not quite as easy as it should have been."

"We had a body come in last night" Molly frowned "Joan Waters I think her name was."

"That would be the same woman" he confirmed.

"Oh that's awful" she exclaimed as she put a hand over her mouth in shock. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

"Why?" Sherlock frowned "I have no feelings toward her and the only connection we might have is the baby."

"But you-"

"Had sex, yes."

"But then-"

"Molly" Sherlock interrupted her "I am incapable of feeling love toward anyone; I have no recollection of the night."

"I don't believe that" Molly whispered "I think that you feel emotion but you are just unable to identify what you are feeling."

"Possibly" he admitted "but probably not."

Five minutes later, Fred walked out of his lab and into the bigger one, holding up a sheet of paper. "Molly, here's your results back."

Molly hurried over to retrieve it "thank you, Fred."

"Any time" he winked before retreating back.

The sheet of paper was handed over to Sherlock who quickly scanned it and sighed before starting to head out. "Hang on" Molly called after him "what was the result?"

"I'm heading to the social security office, you work the rest out."

**Sherlock**

"Oh _God_!" Greg pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced "either someone's let one off or the baby has just dropped one."

"Looks like it's time for you to change her nappy, _daddy_" Mary teased.

"Do I look like I know how to change a nappy?" Sherlock snapped impatiently.

"Well" John said before anyone else could jump in "you seem to know how to do everything else."

Sherlock whirled around to face John and said "and why would you assume that I'd _ever learn_ to care for an infant considering that I never assumed that I would end up with one?"

"Hmm" Mary stated "that's a good point."

"Hang on a second" Greg said "so, you've had her since last night; who's been changing her?"

"I thought John needed the practice" Sherlock replied delicately.

John rolled his eyes "yes and so do you; now, come on, I'll tell you what to do." Everyone stared as Sherlock's hand hovered over the now naked baby who was staring straight back at him as if to say 'yeah, come on then, my butt is getting cold' and everyone was trying to bite back their humour as John said, for the second time "it's only poo, Sherlock, wipe it off now or her bum will start to get sore!" Hesitantly, Sherlock plucked a wipe from the package and started to dab at the baby's behind, smearing rather that wiping. "I'm not doing it for you" John reminded him "so the sooner you do it, the sooner it'll be over."

Gritting his teeth, Sherlock began to wipe the baby clean and, finally, when the wipes had done their job, John passed him a nappy. "What about powder?" Sherlock asked, remembering from films that most people powdered their baby before replacing the nappy.

"It's advised against" John replied "apparently it's dangerous if the baby inhales it. Now, slide the nappy underneath her and use the self-adhesive flaps to secure it in place."

Sherlock did his last job quickly before handing her over to Mary so that she could re-dress her. "That was hilarious" Greg stated "and now I have photographic evidence of Sherlock handling shit."

"_Not_ in front of the baby!" John and Sherlock shouted together before looking at the other and frowning.

"What are you doing here, Gary?" Sherlock snapped.

"It's Greg" Greg corrected "and I ran into Molly earlier, she told me everything" he paused to grin smugly at the detective before continuing "it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up, _that's_ why I'm here. She also said that you went to change the child's name."

"Yes" Sherlock confirmed darkly.

"And did you?"

Sherlock sighed in annoyance before saying "yes" again.

John groaned as he said "what did you change it to, Sherlock?"

"Music" Sherlock beamed "it was the perfect choice, don't you think?"

Once again, everyone stared at him but they weren't smiling. "Are you being serious?" Mary asked "you changed her name from Joan to _Music?_" Sherlock nodded happily, oblivious to everyone's shock at his choice of name. "Oh dear."

"Oh, Sherlock" Mrs Hudson moaned "how could you?"

"I like music" he stated "so it was obviously the-" looking up, he finally noticed everyone's expressions and noted that they definitely weren't quite as pleased with his name choice as he was. "What?"

"Sherlock, I think I actually preferred Joan." John told him "Music is most certainly not a name."

"We could call her Muse?" Mary suggested "that isn't so bad."

"What are _you_ doing here?" Sherlock barked.

"I live here" she told him curtly "John and I moved back in to take care of you which, now, seems like the best choice we could have made! Honestly, Sherlock" Mary shook her head in exasperation "of all the names you could have chosen, it was Music!"


	3. Chapter 3

**John Watson**

"I don't know what to tell you, Mary" John sighed quietly, peering through the kitchen doors to see that Sherlock was sitting in his favoured chair with _Music_ asleep in his arms. "There's nothing I can do, the paternity test came back positive; Sherlock's her father and now he and only he has the power to make decisions for her."

"Actually" sighed his wife "I think that Sherlock could really be the best thing for her; he's fiercely loyal, you know and it's not as if he's alone. I'm due any day and, if he asks, he can have our help."

John smiled a little "I actually like watching him struggle, it's pretty funny."

"So we should just leave him to struggle?" She asked, matching John's smile "are we really that cruel, John?"

"I can be" he thought out loud "I still haven't paid the bastard back for pretending to die." The memory of Sherlock falling from the roof of ST Barts still made John emotional; remembering how he felt when he saw the body of his best friend, laying there, covered in blood _still_ brings tears to his eyes and standing there, at Sherlock's grave, remembering how real everything felt but not accepting that he was truly gone and begging him to come back still makes his knees buckle.

He watched Sherlock, taking in how alive he looked; John had been rash, upon Sherlock's return, punching him but he never really felt angry. The feeling more was of betrayal as he'd been left to grieve for a friend he'd believed to be dead; he loved Sherlock, he'd become a huge part of his life and have to adapt to life without him had been hard, harder than he'd ever thought possible. "Hey" Mary had sensed John's distress and rubbed his arm gently "he's not going anywhere, John."

When Mary had met John, he'd been lost; he was depressed and had started drinking but there had been something about him that had attracted her. She could tell that John was loyal but he was also lost and, when he finally confided in her, she promised that she would never leave him. Mary knew that John harboured feelings for his deceased friend, whether or not he wanted to admit them, but she also knew that this man who had died had been a huge part of John's life.

Admittedly, she wasn't best pleased when Sherlock crashed John's proposal and announced that he hadn't died; she hated what he'd done to John but there was also something about Sherlock and she almost immediately understood why the detective had done what he'd done but because John isn't comfortable at showing any kind of emotion unless it's anger and because Sherlock _can't_ show emotion let alone read it, that night almost ended in a full blown fist fight.

"Are you two going to carry on talking about me or are you going to come in here and talk _to_ me?" Sherlock asked without looking up from the baby.

"Yes" Mary announced, giving John's arm a comforting squeeze before heading back to sit with Sherlock. She sat in the chair that had been purchased just for her and held her arms out. "Let me have a cuddle."

"Get your own" Sherlock frowned, tightening his grip on the infant.

Mary couldn't help but smile "my, my, Sherlock; are you getting attached already?"

"I'm not getting attached" he told her "she's just gone to sleep and if I move her, she'll wake up and start crying."

"Oh she won't" she told him "and anyway, passing her around whilst she's sleeping is a good thing; it'll help her to sleep through the night without waking up at the smallest of noises."

Sherlock surveyed the heavily pregnant wife of John Watson for a moment before sighing and passing her over. "She's mine though" he reminded her "so don't think you can just take her when you feel like it."

"Finally taking the daddy job seriously, Sherlock?" John asked, sitting down and leaning over to stroke Music's thin brown hair.

The detective watched the happy couple with his baby and felt an odd feeling bubble up inside him; it made him want to snatch the baby back and take her away so that he could have her all to himself. "Jealousy" he said out loud.

"What?" John and Mary looked up at him.

"What?" He retorted.

"You just said-" John shook his head "never mind."

"It'll be nice for baby Watson to have someone to grow up with" Molly stated, staring affectionately down at the sleeping daughter of Sherlock Holmes. "All we need to do is get another cot and she can share the nursery but, until then, she can use the one we brought, seeing as we have no use for it right this second."

"Maybe you and Sherlock can go and look around town tomorrow?" John suggested.

Shopping. Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the thought but, after a moments hard thought, shopping for Music didn't sound quite so bad. "She's going to ruin my reputation" he announced.

Mary laughed loudly "I've been watching you with her, Sherlock, you adore her!"

Sherlock had forgotten that Mary could see right through him and his lies. He grunted before standing up and collecting the Moses basket from the sofa. "Pink suits you." John grinned.

"Shut up, John." The basket was placed in front of Mary and Sherlock gestured at her to place Music into it before taking the baby, the basket and himself to his bedroom.

"He adores her" Mary nodded to John "we have absolutely nothing to worry about."

John raised his eyebrows at his wife before shrugging, getting up from his chair and helping Mary up out of hers. "Do you still think it's a good idea to ask him to be Godfather?"

"I still think that it's the _best_ idea" she confirmed, hooking her arm around John's as they too made their way to bed.

**Baker Street**

The next morning Sherlock was sitting in the living room with the television on mute as he fed Music; she was sitting on his lap, propped up by a pillow as she happily accepted the gloop her new found father was feeding to her. John, who was sitting across the room, was pretending to read the paper but Sherlock was absentmindedly making faces as he fed his daughter and John was too amused to go back to reading the news.

It had impressed both he and Mary just how well Sherlock seemed to be doing; true, it had only been half a day, but the fact that the child hadn't been left in the corner to feed and change herself was almost a miracle. In fact, Sherlock seemed to have dressed her in something normal; John had expected something worse than the light pink dungarees she had on.

"Have you changed her this morning?" John asked as Sherlock finished feeding her and placed the empty bowl on the side.

"No, John" Sherlock replied sarcastically "I've left her to sit in her own excrement."

"Ok, when did you change her?"

"John" Sherlock barked, standing up and catching Music before she fell to the floor "you won't find me questioning your parenting so stop questioning mine."

John frowned at his friend before nodding and saying "ok, Sherlock, have _you_ dressed today?"

Both men knew the answer to that question because, as Sherlock had stood, his robe had fallen open revealing absolutely nothing underneath. "No, I haven't; I didn't see the point."

"Sherlock, although there is no law against sitting in a chair _naked_ with a baby on your lap, it _is_ frowned upon."

"Why?"

"Child protection, it looks bad."

"But it isn't" Sherlock replied.

"No, but, Sherlock-"

"_Fine, _John," he huffed before dumping Music unceremoniously onto John's lap and then, just before he closed his door, he shouted "oh and she needs changing!"

"Sherlock!" John shouted but his flatmate had already slammed his door shut.

Ten minutes later, after Music's nappy had been changed, Mary appeared; she was fully dressed and had her coat under her arm and her handbag hanging over her shoulder. "What was all the shouting about?" She asked as she shrugged her coat on.

"Oh" John sighed "just Sherlock being Sherlock. Are you heading out?" He asked, noticing his wife's coat.

"Yeah, shopping with _his nibs_" she smiled "thought we may as well get on it early, try to avoid the crowds."

"Good idea" he nodded just as Sherlock strode back in, finally fully dressed.

"Oh good, you changed her" he stated as he took Music and placed her in the seat he had strapped to his chest.

John and Mary stared at the detective; he looked very strange, stranger than usual, with a baby attached to him. "Yes," frowning slightly as he watched Sherlock get something out of his bag and put it on the baby's head "Sherlock, what is that?"

Sherlock turned around to reveal that Music now had a hat that matched his; he grinned as he put his on too "it's a hat, John."

"I'm saying nothing" John sighed, shaking his head.

"By saying that you're saying nothing" Sherlock stated "you have, in fact, already said something."

John gazed at Sherlock, completely dumbfounded but instead of speaking to him, turned to his wife and said "good luck, Mary, I have no doubt you'll need it."

"Oh, don't be such a worry wart, John" she nudged him playfully and said "I know how to deal with his bullshit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sherlock Holmes**

"I don't understand why a baby needs so many clothes" Sherlock grumbled as he pushed a trolley around a baby store whilst Mary plucked outfit after outfit off the rails and into the trolley. "No, not that!" He said firmly as she reached for a dress patterned all over with flowers.

"Why not?" She asked, pouting slightly "I think it's beautiful!"

"It's disgusting; I wouldn't even use it as a punishment" Sherlock glared at the offending item before taking it from the hanger and showing it to Music who was sitting in the baby seat, attached to the trolley. When she saw the dress she waved her hands at it, batting it out of the way. "See, I'm not the only one who hates it!"

"Fine" Mary took the dress from Sherlock and hung it back up "what about this?"

The object in question was an all in one sleep suit; half of it was white and the other yellow and white horizontal stripes. "I suppose."

Before too long, the trolley was stacked full of clothes and blankets; Mary had to find another trolley for the bigger, boxed, items. "You're going to need a car seat" she told the detective who was adamant against purchasing one.

"I don't own a car" he sniffed, staring at the pushchair Mary had taken a liking to. It was the best in store and practical as it could be used from birth, right up until four years; it included a car seat which could also be used as a carry cot.

"Yes" she sighed "but I do and anyway, Sherlock, it's not _just_ a car seat, it's a carry cot too. Muse is getting too big for her basket so you can't keep carrying her around in it."

Sherlock frowned "I know, that's why I have this." He gestured at the baby seat which was still strapped across his chest.

"You're getting the pushchair!" And, before Sherlock could protest, Mary had signalled to one of the staff to put the box behind the tills for them. "Good choice" she told him, as though he'd finally relented "now, you need bottles."

By the time they had finished both Sherlock and Mary were weighed down with bottles, bath stuff, clothes, nappies, blankets and food; the crib, highchair, pram and changing table were to be delivered later on in the day. Sherlock was _not_ in a good mood.

"You just need a case, Sherlock" Mary told him comfortingly as they walked down the street together with Music, who was, once again, strapped to Sherlock's chest. "I know that John wants to go out with you again and solve crime."

"London is usually not this boring" he replied sullenly "it's the capital of England, I usually enough cases to fill up two weeks with just one days' worth of messages!"

Three days after Joan had become Music, Mary finally went into labour and gave birth to a rather large baby boy in which they named Charlie John Watson. The happy couple had ignored Sherlock's comments of 'of _course_ he's John's, just look at the size of his head!' And 'Charlie? You may as well call him Tom, Dick or Harry for the amount of effort you put into choosing a name!'

But, as the months passed, Sherlock began to get a little smug at the progress Music was making and comparing her to Charlie.

At three months, Music began crawling whereas when Charlie was still struggling to support his own head.

At five months Music was now walking and had uttered her first words '_oh, do shut up, John!_' whereas Charlie was still blowing raspberries and laughing as his spit bubbles popped whilst he shuffled across the floor on his bum.

At nine months old music was starting to have simple conversations with her father, had been potty trained for a good three weeks and was fast becoming the youngest child prodigy in England. Charlie Watson, six months, wasn't slow for a normal baby but, to Sherlock, he was more idiotic than a dog chasing his own tail and he loved boasting about how well Music was progressing compared to Charlie.

The more Music developed, the more she resembled Sherlock; She'd inherited his dark eyes, his brunette curly hair, the expression he used when thinking and his annoying ability to irritate and belittle people. At, fast approaching, three years old Music was, if possible, even more annoying than her father but, unlike her father, she could still get away with it; her big dark eyes and cute smile saw to that.

John put up with Sherlock's gloating up until it was time for, thirty three month old, Charlie to start nursery whereas, at just three months older, Music was ready to start school.

"Charlie is _normal_" John fumed at Sherlock who'd, for the fifth time that morning, had pointed out that Charlie was lagging behind. "Music seems to be the three year old version of you!"

"Two years and eleven months _actually_" Sherlock corrected as he held out a Peppa pig backpack to his daughter who took it from him and promptly put her head through one of the arms.

"Huh" John chortled as he watched the little girl glare at the bag, which had slipped past her shoulders, down her skinny body and thudded to the floor. "Charlie, put your backpack on, mate." John pointed at Charlie's 'Ben 10' bag and watched as his son shrugged it onto his back. "It looks like your _smart_ daughter can't work out how to use a backpack where as my _normal_ son can."

"Are you two fighting again?" Mary asked as she walked down the steps, into the entrance hall of 221B Baker Street, plucked the Peppa pig bag from the floor and helped Music into it. "Look, boys, the fact of the matter is that they're _both_ children."

"And that Music is freakishly advanced" muttered John.

Mary sighed and placed her hands on her hips as she said "and would you expect the child of Sherlock Holmes to be _normal _when it comes to cognitive and intellectual development?"

John rolled his eyes and grunted; of course she was right, his wife was _always_ right. "Yes, of course" he sighed "come on then, let's go."

It was both Music's and Charlie's first day within a school and, even though, they were heading to different areas of the school it didn't make the day any less emotional for either of their parents. Molly had been tearing up all morning, John had been trying to hide his leaky eyes and Sherlock was adamantly trying to hide any kind of tear jerking emotion that had anything to do with his daughter's first day at school.

"Are you nervous?" He asked Music as he zipped up her coat.

"Nope" she popped the 'p' before saying "I have no reason to be when I already know more than my teachers."

Sherlock stood and ruffled her hair "that's my girl."

"She's just as modest as you are, Sherlock." John said sarcastically, taking Charlie's hand and leading the way out onto Baker Street.

"I know!" Sherlock beamed "she even promised not to mention her musical skills." He stared fondly at his daughter as she claimed his hand and then started down the street with Music skipping along beside him.

It had taken Sherlock a while to adapt into his new rule of fatherhood; it isn't as if he'd even had any warning before he was thrown headfirst into a pit of soiled nappies and baby vomit but, as Music grew, his fondness toward her increased and, before too long, even though he refused to admit it out loud, he began to feel a new kind of emotion which had been stronger than anything he'd ever felt before. When he'd discussed this with Mary, she'd told him that it was love and that the love he felt for his daughter would never fade, it would just keep on growing.

There had been a few rough points, especially before Music had started walking and one of these was when he'd taken her on a case with him.

**Approximately two years and six months ago**

"Greg, Sherlock's here with John." Anderson called to Lestrade; she'd stopped using the word 'freak' after his supposed suicide and when he'd returned, after feeling immensely guilty about trying to expose him as a fraud, had become a lot warmer toward him and started using his name.

The two men seemed to be bickering about something as they climbed out of the cab but all Anderson could catch was "she's only just turned four months, Sherlock! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Age is just a number!" Sherlock snapped back "and anyway, I brought her a sleep mask to cover her eyes."

"Are you two alright?" Anderson asked when they finally approached her; even though they were constantly arguing about something or other, she still thought it polite to ask just in case this wasn't just a petty squabble.

"Just a little disagreement" stated Sherlock as Lestrade came out of a house just ahead of them. "Ah, Grant, where's the body?" He placed his hands on his hips, causing his coat to fall open and revealing Music, who was sleeping in the carrier which was strapped to Sherlock.

"Uhm" Greg frowned "it's Greg and why is your baby with you?"

"I tried to tell him" John huffed "but he wouldn't listen to me!"

"Well why should I?" The detective frowned "it's not as though I didn't bring protective eyewear for her." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an elasticated band with material, shaped like a 'B' attached to it.

Greg stared at Sherlock incredulously "why didn't you leave her with Mary or Mrs Hudson?"

"They sing _nursery rhymes_" he grumbled darkly

"And what?" Snapped John.

"They're educationally suppressing!"

"Educationally suppressing? Sherlock, that is one of the most idiotic things I've ever heard!" His flatmate retorted.

"Don't call me an idiot in front of my baby!" Sherlock barked "one, because it's not true and, two, she'll start actually _thinking_ that I'm just like every _normal_ idiot I have the misfortune to come in contact with!"

John's face turned red as he clenched his fists in frustration "I will call you whatever I like in front of whoever I like so, if I want to call you an idiot, I will and if I want to call you a ba-" Sherlock quickly placed his hands over Music's ears "-stard, then I will!"

Anderson, who was watching the disagreement and finding it quite funny, decided to step in before fists started flying "I can watch her until you're done, Sherlock, and I promise I won't sing nursery rhymes."

Sherlock surveyed her for a moment before sighing "_fine_ but only if it stops this idiot moaning at me!"

**Approximately two years and six months later**

Despite the fact that taking Music to a case had caused a fight between Sherlock and John, it hadn't changed a thing between any of them and, even though Music remembered that day, it hadn't scarred her in the slightest…well, maybe the fact that Anderson started pulling faces at her to make her laugh, hadn't done much good but it became apparent that Music had projectile vomited on the woman to make her stop and that's the reason why that, despite Music was a tiny fish about to swim into a giant pond, he wasn't worried about her because she could take care of herself.

His confidence disappeared, however, when they approached the school.

"Mr Holmes?" A young woman met them at the school gates.

Sherlock stared at her, deducing that this must be Music's chaperone. "Yes" he stuck his free hand out for her to shake.

The woman shook his outstretched hand and said "my name is Terri and I'll be-"

"My daughter's chaperone, yes" Sherlock replied.

"Yes" Terri confirmed "and so I just want to assure you that your daughter will be safe under my care."

"My daughter is not yet three" the detective informed her "she is exceptionally clever and she can take care of herself but if I come to collect her and she is in any less perfect condition than I left her in, I _will _be holding you responsible." He stared at her for a moment and then knelt down to talk to Music. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, daddy." She told him confidently.

"Good" he pulled her to him and kissed her forehead "I'll be back at three to pick you up, ok?" Music nodded. "And, remember, if you need me for anything, your mobile is in your bag in the secret pocket."

"I know, daddy" Music beamed at him before throwing her skinny arms around his neck "I love you so don't worry about me, I'll be ok."

Sherlock cleared his throat and blinked fiercely as he tried to keep the tears, welling in his eyes, at bay. "I know" he stood up "I'll see you later." He watched his daughter take Terri's hand before waving a short goodbye as they walked into the school.

There was silence for a few minutes as Sherlock watched his daughter disappear with a woman who was a stranger to both of them before someone, probably John, nudged him and said "you alright, mate?"

'No' he thought 'of course I'm not; I've just sent my child into a school full of children who will bully her for being different and I'll have to encourage her through it all even though I'll want to rip out their tongues for making my baby cry' but all he said was "yes, of course I'm ok, John."

"Hey" Mary said softly. Sherlock turned to look at her and saw that she had fresh tear tracks streaking her cheeks and more about to fall. "It's ok to be worried, Sherlock; it's her first day."

Mary, even though she's (in his terms) normal, has always seemed to understand him better than anyone else and has managed to connect with him on an emotional level; whereas John who is, and always will be, his best friend is too scared to even admit just how much Sherlock had hurt him when he'd pretended to be dead. Mary isn't scared to cry, in fact, she cried all the time when she was pregnant and, as John was always at work, it was Sherlock who had to try and comfort her. After month or so, she'd cry in her room, avoiding Sherlock and his 'comforting words' at all costs.

"Who says I'm worried? I'm not worried, Music can take care of herself."

"She also takes better care of you than you do" she pointed out as she linked one arm through Sherlock's and another through John's "now come on, you pathetic excuse for men, let me buy you both breakfast as you continue to pretend that you're both fine and not holding back fountains of tears."


	5. Chapter 5

**Music Holmes**

Music was beyond excited about starting school; her father didn't even have to announce how proud he was that she'd skipped the first six years of school, including nursery and reception, and her first day would be in year five with children aged nine and ten. Music knew that she could have gone into a secondary school but it was suggested that she waited until she was a bit older to deal with people five times her own age.

_'She's young' _Music thought as she studied Terri whilst they walked hand in hand through the playground and toward the school _'this is obviously her first day which means she's new, like me.'_

"Music" Terri said kindly as they entered a classroom which was empty but for a young man who was sitting at the desk in the corner "this is your classroom and this is your teacher, Mr Davies."

Mr Davies looked up and smiled before getting up and walking over. "You must be Music, I've heard a lot of good things about you."

"I can't say I've heard much about you" Music replied.

"Well, I don't suppose you would have" the teacher chortled "anyway, I think we'll need to have a little chat before everyone else comes in; is that alright?" Music nodded. "Good, now if you follow me, I'll show you to your desk." He gestured at Music and Terri to follow as he moved to the back of the classroom and to a table with two chairs. "You'll share this desk with Terri" Mr Davies told her "so you always know where you're going to be sitting."

Terri pulled out one of the two chairs and waited until Music had sat down before taking a seat herself. "Music" Terri started but was interrupted.

"Muse" Music told her "dad calls me Music but everyone else calls me Muse."

"Ok, Muse, we just want to run through a few things with you. Obviously, you're a lot younger than everyone else who is going to be in this class with you and we're trying to accommodate for that but, the one thing we can't really control, is the attitudes of your classmates and so if anyone says anything mean to you please don't be afraid to say something to me or to Mr Davies."

"I can look after myself" Muse told them defiantly "dad taught me self-defence."

Terri and Mr Davies exchanged looks before Mr Davies said "that's good, Muse, but you don't harm another person, ok? It's not nice."

"Of course not!" Muse frowned "I'll only use it if I have to and anyway, dad says that if they're mean to me it'll only be because they're jealous."

"Well" Mr Davies said "it looks like you're all set then."

Muse grinned at him before saying "do you have my booster seat? I keep sliding down this one; dad said he dropped it off for me when he had a meeting with the head, oh, and I'd like to do some reading before the bell goes if that's ok."

The teacher had been right, he couldn't control the behaviour of her classmates, a fact that became obvious at break time.

Muse was sitting on a bench, reading, when a group of four boys came up to her, casting a shadow over her book. "Excuse me" she said politely "you're blocking my light."

"_Who_ are you?" The tallest boy, whose name was Jordan, demanded "or should I say, _what_ are you? You look like a baby and yet you're reading" he snatched her book from her and peered at the title "Harry Potter!"

"Give that back!" She demanded, standing up on the bench but only just reaching the bottom of his neck.

"Or what?" He said nastily.

"I'll kick you in the balls!"

Three of the four boys laughed loudly at her. "Oh really?" Jordan asked, grinning, "I'm surprised you even know that word!"

Muse glared at him "I'll do it if you don't give me my book back."

"Go ahead, I bet you'll hurt yourself more than you hurt me."

"Awh, come on man, she's just a kid" Cameron, the boy who hadn't laughed, told his friend.

Jordan turned around to face him and frowned as he said "who's side are _you _on?" before turning back to Muse and saying "come on then, try it!"

"Ok" she smiled sweetly at him before kicking him, as hard as she could, in the crotch. Jordan doubled over, huffing and swearing, clutching at his balls. "If you take anything from me again" Music warned him softly "I'll poke your eyes out."

It took a moment or two for Jordan to recover and when he finally did he said "you got me this one time, Holmes' don't expect to be this lucky again." before pushing her book back into her so hard that she toppled off the bench and grazed her knee and her hands. "You're a freak" he told her "remember that, right? You're just a freak!" Then he left, leading all but one of his friends away with him.

"Here" Cameron offered a hand out to Muse and helped her up "pay no mind to him, he's just jealous that you're older than his reading age."

Muse scowled, ignoring the boys offered hand and getting herself to her feet before she wiped her hands on her trousers. "Bullies are usually bullies because they are belittled and demeaned at home" she replied wisely "it's obvious that Jordan is about as smart as my God brother who, by the way, is only three months younger than myself and is infuriatingly stupid. Anyway, his parents are high up in their professional careers and, because Jordan is not doing at all well in his studies, they are pushing him to do better; therefore, Jordan takes his frustrations out on, what he would describe as, the weak and vulnerable in the school playground. I.E, me; a child prodigy who is not yet three and should still be in nappies."

Callum gawked at the girl with mouth hanging open and eyes wide "_who _are you?" He finally asked.

"Music Holmes. My father is the famous detective, Sherlock Holmes."

"I thought he died" the boy frowned; three years or so ago, there was something in the papers.

Music grinned "nope, a bad man was trying to ruin his reputation and, to clear his name, he chose to fake his own death; I only know what he's told me though, I wasn't around at the time."

"Amazing" Cameron stated "absolutely amazing! Music-"

"Muse" Muse corrected.

"_Muse_, will you be my friend?"

Grinning, Muse shrugged before saying "like my father, I really have no interest or need in friends _but_ he has John and I know how much he values having him around so I will have you. Cameron, I will accept your request for friendship."

"You are a weird one" Cameron stated but smiled at her "you come and tell me if Jordan bothers you again; his dad works for my dad, I'll sort him out." He winked.

**221B Baker Street**

John and Mary Watson had both agreed, many weeks ago, to take a couple of days off for when Music and Charlie start school; not for their sake but for Sherlock's. They knew that, whether or not the detective wanted to admit it, he would take the parting very hard, especially day one and they had been right: Sherlock had been too distracted to focus on anything all day and so he spent the entire day sitting in his chair with his hands held together, as though he was praying, as he watched the clock or pacing the room, stopping once or twice to stare at the clock before continuing his relentless, infuriating, routine. He hadn't eaten any of the food Mary had ordered for him at breakfast, hadn't touched the cups of tea John had made for him when they returned to Baker Street and hadn't said a single word since they'd left the school that morning.

"Do you think he's ok?" John said, at half past two as he and his wife readied themselves to return to school to pick up the two infants of Baker Street.

"You know better than anyone what he's like, John" Mary told him as she bustled about getting her bag and her coat together "but you'd better tell him we're about to-"

"It's time to go" Sherlock stated, making the couple jump; they'd not noticed that he'd moved from his chair and was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

John noticed that he'd already pulled his coat on and was just about to put his 'detective' hat on. "In a hurry, Sherlock?" He asked.

"Yes" the detective replied before picking up his daughter's matching hat and turning on his heel, heading toward the hall and down the stairs.

Mary smiled at John before shrugging and following Sherlock, almost as eager to see her son as the detective was to see his daughter.

Sherlock's nerves were wired; he was dreading what had happened to his daughter. His school days weren't the best time for him. The names he was called, the bullying, the amount of times he'd come home after being pushed into bins or punched in the nose. Maybe he'd been too rash, maybe he should have waited a few more years before sending her to school and tutored her himself.

"I'm pulling her out of school" Sherlock stated at they reached the school and headed toward the nursery to pick Charlie up.

"What?" John exclaimed "why?"

"She's too young; she's different, much more intelligent than the other children and-"

Mary placed a hand on his arm, quietening him. "Sherlock, Muse will tell you what she wants; don't jump to conclusions."

"She's just like me" he informed them "she'll remember everything, unable to forget; my school days were ones I wish that I could forget but I can't. I remember every punch, every unimaginative taunt and every question running through my head when I went home and asked my mother why I was being treated this way, obviously _she _was no help at all; spouting crap about being special and the other kids were just jealous. I was older than Music is, much older, therefore I had the ability to cope better. No, I jumped too soon; I'm pulling her out and teaching her myself."

They'd reached the nursery now and Sherlock continued talking even though John and Mary had left him outside whilst they went in to collect Charlie.

"Hello" a woman interrupted his ramblings, looking at him as though he'd just escaped from a mental hospital "are you lost, can I help you?"

"Of course I'm not lost!" Sherlock snapped without even bother to look at the woman he was addressing "I have the entire map of London permanently imprinted on my brain."

The woman stared at him; she recognised the hat he wore on his head and, as he had a smaller hat clutched in his hand that matched the one he was wearing, she assumed that he was picking up a child from the nursery. "You're Sherlock Holmes" she stated "you were all over the newspapers a few years ago; something about committing suicide but, as you are definitely not dead, I assume that the papers were wrong. That _or_ I am entirely wrong and you're not who I think you are."

"You are right and so were the papers" Sherlock told her sharply "now, if you don't mind, I was actually in the middle of a debate."

"With yourself?"

"I often find that arguing with myself is more efficient than arguing with other people."

The woman laughed "and do you often win these arguments?"

Sherlock finally took the liberty of looking at the person who was talking to him. _'Young'_ he thought _'societies version of beautiful and definitely not a parent.'_ He noted the paint splodges on her shirt, the black ink lines up her arms and the yoghurt stain on her collar _'she works in the nursery, then; of course, the chipper attitude and patient demeanour was perfect for working with children_._ '_

"Sometimes" he finally replied "more often than not I rebuke myself for my idiotic thoughts and set myself straight."

"That must be interesting to see" she smiled as she held out her hand "I'm Annie."

Tentatively, as though touching her would harm him in some way, Sherlock took her hand and shook it briefly. "Yes, I know. Shouldn't you be back in the nursery?" He asked rudely.

"There's no reason why I should be" Annie replied "why do you ask?"

"You work here."

"Oh, God, no!" She exclaimed "no, I'm just here dropping off my nephew for my sister. Why would you think that I worked in a nursery?"

Sherlock was too stunned to speak, he'd read her completely wrong and now, as he tried to correct his mistakes, he could see absolutely nothing. This woman was not like everyone else, she wasn't an open book, and this annoyed him intensely. "Where _do_ you work then?" He asked, completely disregarding her question.

"I'm currently between jobs" Annie frowned "I had an interview this morning at a publishing firm but didn't have time to change." She sighed at the stains on her shirt and muttered "this is never going to come out."

The detective took hold of the woman's arm and examined the stains before leaning in closer to inspect the yoghurt stain. "Soak it overnight in baking soda" Sherlock instructed Annie just as John and Mary emerged, toddler in tow, from the nursery.

"I'm sorry" John called, hurrying over to them, jumping to conclusions when he saw Sherlock manhandling a person who had no idea what he was like when it came to personal boundaries "he belongs to me; is he bothering you?"

"Uh" Annie had been slightly taken aback when Sherlock had taken hold of her arm "no, he was actually giving me some tips about stain removal."

Sherlock turned his attention to Charlie who was sucking his thumb and was covered from head to toe in blue paint. He frowned at the toddler before turning back to Annie. "It was a pleasure talking to you but now I have to go and pick up Music" he bowed his head in farewell "good day."

"Music?" Annie asked, evidently confused.

"His daughter" John sighed "please, don't ask about the name." And then followed after Sherlock.

Sherlock, John and Mary made it back to the playground just before the bell and waited patiently with the other parents. The Watson's had noticed that Sherlock was getting a lot of attention from many of the female inhabitants of the playground whereas Sherlock, as usual, remained ignorant to it as he waited _impatiently_ to see his daughter again.

"Why are school hours so long?" The detective grumbled as he started to pace again.

"Some say that they aren't long enough" John informed his disgruntled friend.

"Then they're idiots" he snapped "looking for free childcare whilst they go about their careers as though their children don't exist!"

"Well" Mary sighed, almost as though she was taunting him "you won't have to worry about this tomorrow."

"Hmm?" Frowned Sherlock.

"You're taking her out of school, remember" she probed.

Sherlock grumbled something unintelligible under his breath which was cut out by the shrill ring of the school bell, signalling that the school day had just come to an end and Charlie chose that exact moment to attach himself to Sherlock's leg.

The detective wasn't a stranger to this kind of behaviour from the boy and he know that attempting to remove him would be futile so he just left his Godson sitting on his shoe, clinging to him with his tiny sticky painted hands as Music appeared with Terri and a boy he didn't recognise.

"Music!" He called as he made his way toward her, dragging his heavier leg behind him as he walked.

His daughter beamed at him before letting go of Terri's hand and racing toward her father with her hands outstretched.

Before Music came onto the scene, Sherlock had been cold toward anyone who tried to touch him and definitely wouldn't return the gesture unless it was a simple handshake or, when he was in one of his good moods, a nice hug to show John just how good he felt before disregarding the action just as soon as it had happened but now, he welcomed the warm touch of his daughter but _only_ his daughter; he tolerated Charlie to keep Mary and John from moaning at him.

Sherlock bent down and scooped her into his arms, holding her close. "It's ok" he told her, misinterpreting her hug "I'm going to pull you out of school right this minute and you won't have to come back."

"Why?" Music asked "I _like_ school; it's easy!"

"What?" He frowned, placing her back on the floor and frowning at her "you _liked _it? What happened, were the other children nice to you and why are your hands grazed?"

Muse giggled "yes, daddy, I liked it; not much happened, not really and I was pushed over at break time."

"You were pushed over?" Sherlock thundered "by who?"

"It doesn't matter, I kicked him in the nuts." She told him happily.

Pride over whelmed Sherlock; despite what other parents might think about what his little girl had said, he was extremely proud to know that Music could take care of herself. "Well done" he smiled.

"Sherlock-" John started but the boy who'd been with Music as she'd walked out of school spoke up.

"Why is that kid blue?"

"Because he's an idiot" Sherlock informed him "who are you?"

"Cameron." Cameron replied.

"Hmm" the detective hummed "and what are your intentions toward my daughter?"

The boy looked confused as he tried to understand the question that had been put forward to him "Uhm, well, I asked her to be my friend."

Friend; Sherlock only had one of those, maybe two. John Watson had announced that Sherlock was his _best_ friend when he'd asked Sherlock to be his best man, an act that had thoroughly confused the younger man. He'd never expected to be someone's friend, let alone someone's best friend. "Is that alright, daddy?" Music asked when her father had taken to staring into space to think rather than voicing his opinion.

"Of course" he finally replied "Music, if you want to have friends then you can have friends; you don't have to ask me first."

Music shrugged "I don't need friends but you have John so I figured that I should have someone too."

"What about Molly?" Mary stepped forward "What about me and John, aren't we your friends?"

"No" the girl replied innocently "you're all adults and, anyway, you and John are more like family and Molly is like a big sister who's not quite as smart as me." She grinned cheekily before taking Sherlock's hand and saying "let's go home, I want to play my violin."

* * *

**Hey guys! I really hope that you're enjoying this; I apologise that Sherlock isn't very _Sherlocky, _I'm not very good at doing deductions and, also, I figured that there would be only one person who humanises him and that would be his daughter.**

**Now, replies to my reviews:**

**HideYourCrazy - John and Mary moved in with Sherlock after the wedding in order to keep a closer eye on him; I know this probably won't happen in the series but, for me, it was easier to keep them together. Thank you, I'm happy that you're enjoying it.**

**Ulises in silence - Thank you, I'm very glad that you're enjoying it. I'm hoping to post at least once a day but I'm doing it so I'm always a chapter ahead before I post.**

**Happy Fae and Cmd's Monkey - Thank you! I'm so annoyed about making this mistake but thank you for pointing it out to me; When I say Anderson, I actually meant Donovan. I will correct it at some point but I hope this makes things a little less complicated for you.**

**Guest - What's wrong with Joan? I don't understand if you mean the baby or the woman so I suppose I'll try and answer both. Joan, the baby's mother, had terminal cancer - I'm not saying which one because then that adds more complicity that I'd need to explain. The baby, in which Sherlock changed Joan to Music...there's nothing wrong with her other than she's extremely intelligent and advanced.  
**

**Thank you for all of your reviews; I'll have an update for you soon with some John/Sherlock crime action.**


	6. Chapter 6

**The diary of John Watson**

_'Sherlock is astounding; of course I've always thought that but seeing him with Music is almost looking at a completely different person. I had my doubts when he'd first announced that he had a child and was prepared to have to do most of the parenting myself but, somehow, that little girl stole his heart in a way that most others can't. Of course he's the same insolent, cold, unfeeling bastard around everyone else but, with Music, he seems almost normal._

_Music is almost a carbon copy of Sherlock; she looks like him more and more every day and she's exceptionally clever but she seems to be more humanised, more open to human emotion, that part must be from her mother. It's sad to think that she'll never know her mother but Mary seems to be providing the female stability in which every child needs._

_Watching both Sherlock and Muse together is fascinating. He teaches her new things every day, she's even inherited Sherlock's talent for music; almost mastering the instrument in less than a month but, when they are together, it's like they're in their own little world, a place no one else has access to and it's obvious that they both adore each other. _

_Five years has passed since her arrival and, within that time, she's impressed her teachers, her friends and even her father by taking her A-level exams and passing with the highest marks anyone has ever seen. Sherlock has pulled her out of school though, claiming that if she wants to study further then she is to do it at home. Mary and I agree; five years old is definitely too young to be attending university, no matter how intelligent she is._

_Music's intelligence is another thing that astounds me. If someone had told me that I would know a five year old who's intelligent enough to take a course at university, I would probably laugh in their face but Muse is like a little sponge who's always eager and willing to learn new things and, to be honest, I wouldn't expect anything less from an offspring of Sherlock Holmes.'_

**221B Baker Street**

221B Baker Street was quiet for once; no sound of a violin was being played, no disputes or arguments were shaking the building and no screaming children were rattling the bones of the flat. Instead, five year olds Music and Charlie was contently colouring at the kitchen table, Mary was cooking, John was, also at the table, reading the newspaper and Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.

"It's lovely and quiet in here" Mary commented as she drained the pan of spaghetti.

"Hmm" John nodded "that's because Sherlock isn't here."

Mary rolled her eyes at her husband before setting the pan down on the hob and said "where is he anyway? He's been gone all day."

"God knows" sighed John, setting the paper down and peering at Charlie's drawing which was closest to him. It looked like a family of potatoes with legs. "Charlie, what are you drawing?"

Charlie looked up at his dad with big blue eyes and grinned before saying "I'm drawing everyone!" As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mary peered at the drawing and smiled "oh, wow; I see that, Charlie. Is that daddy?" She pointed to the middle potato which had been drawn with a blue crayon and was the third biggest in size.

"Mhmm" he nodded and then pointed to the red potato which was the second biggest "and that's you, mummy."

Moving out of his seat, John leant in closer to get a better look. The biggest circle was red and had a funny thing sitting on top of its head. "That's Sherlock!" He stated, pointing at it.

"Obviously" Charlie rolled his eyes "he has a hat on, just like Music!"

The last two smaller circles were purple and orange; the purple one, like the red one, had a 'hat' on identifying it as Music. "That is very good, Charlie!" His mother praised, giving him a swift hug.

Music looked up from her drawings and inspected Charlie's work of art before stating "they look like fat potatoes."

"Hey!" The little boy whined "they're not fat! The bigger one is Sherlock because he's the tallest and then it's mummy, then daddy, you and me!"

Mary was impressed that Charlie had gotten their sizes right; since Muse had had her small growth spurt, Charlie had been obsessed with trying to match her height to the extent where he had started walking around the flat in his mother's high heeled shoes. "Let's see what you've done, Muse." She interrupted before a full blown argument erupted.

Muse passed over her sheet of paper and Mary gasped; she'd never seen Muse draw before, the child seemed to be more interested in the violin Sherlock had given her for her third birthday or the maths problems that only Sherlock could check over because neither Mary or John had studied maths beyond A-Levels. The drawing, Muse had produced, was beyond impressive; she'd drawn her father and the intricate detail was flawless, well, Mary couldn't see anything wrong with it. It looked almost like a photograph.

"What?" John asked before reaching out for the sheet his wife was offering. "Oh _wow_" he breathed, taking the picture in "Muse, this is brilliant!"

"It's not my best" the girl shrugged "I have lots in my bedroom."

"Well, this is definitely going on the fridge" stated John "along with Charlie's wonderful work of art." He was just placing a magnet, attaching both of the pictures to the fridge, when the front door slammed in the landing below.

"John, whatever you're doing, stop it; we have a case!" Sherlock called as he thundered loudly up the stairs.

"Daddy's home!" Muse cried, jumping down off her chair and raced to greet her father in the sitting room.

"Music, hello!" Sherlock picked her up, swung her around in excitement and kissed her forehead before balancing her on his hip as he strode into the kitchen. "John, we have a new case! A _murder_; isn't it exciting?"

John frowned at Sherlock's use of words. "Exciting?"

"Yes, yes, exciting!" The detective beamed "so come on, what are you waiting for, let's go!"

"Dad, can come with you? I can help!" Music asked enthusiastically.

"Of course!" Sherlock told her but John put his foot down.

"No! Muse, I'm sorry but you're still too young."

Music pouted at him and John, having learned to ignore the 'puppy dog look' from his own son, pouted back. "Sorry, Music, but John is being Mr Grumpy today; maybe next time." He bent down and deposited his daughter on the floor before whispering "I'll snap a few good pictures for you."

**Sherlock and John**

"You need to learn how to say no to her" John told his best friend as the cab pulled away from outside 221B.

"I really don't like that word" Sherlock replied, wrinkling his nose. "Am I fat, _no,_ you're enormous. Am I pretty, _no_, you're hideous. It's so negative!"

John frowned "only when you use it like that!"

"Well how else would I use it?"

The older man sighed and shook his head before saying "right, where are we going and what happened?"

"_Murder_" Sherlock replied, grinning darkly.

"Yes, Sherlock, I gathered that much."

"Why are you so boring, John?" The detective sighed "why can't you enjoy the end of a life as much as me; especially when it's thick, cold blooded, murder."

John turned his head to the side and stared at his flatmate "ok, you're scaring me a little now, Sherlock."

"I don't know _how_" the detective finally admitted "all I know is where."

"_Where_ then" the older man pressed him as he tried to ignore the jiggling of Sherlock's left leg as he tried to contain his excitement.

"Hyde park, John."

The taxi deposited them at the entrance of Hyde Park which was bustling with police and blocked off with tape. Donovan was leaning against her car and watched them approach. "Sherlock" she nodded "Lestrade has been waiting for you; this one has puzzled him."

"It doesn't take much to confuse Gary" Sherlock sighed, ducking under the tape.

"Don't call him Gary" John pleaded as they walked toward the tent which had been erected "you know how it irritates him."

Sherlock grinned to himself before saying "_I know_."

Upon entering the tent, Sherlock and John were met with two bodies; a woman and a boy no older than Music. Both men faltered; in the years that they had been helping the police, they had never encountered a body of a child that young. Before Music, Sherlock would have just seen him as another body but now all he saw was Music, lying dead and blue on the dirt.

He ducked out of the tent; all excitement, for this new case of double murder, gone. "Asphyxiation" was all he said to Lestrade as he strode away from the tent toward some solitary part of the park so that he could recover from the shock on his own.

Collapsing onto a bench, still in view of the tent, Sherlock placed his head in his hands as he fought to steady his heart rate. This had never happened to him before; he'd _never_ crumbled at a crime scene before and it _never_ took him this long to regain control of himself.

_'She's at home' _he told himself over and over again until someone, presumably John, came and sat beside him.

"Asphyxiation." A voice, not John's, stated. "The mother was stabbed four times in the heart, the boy was strangled."

"Not _now_, Greg" Sherlock growled, clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

"You called me Greg" Lestrade announced "and for that-" a cigarette loomed across Sherlock's face and he took it without hesitation. "It's ok, you know" Greg told him, offering him a lighter "the death of a child isn't as easy to accept as the death of an adult."

Sherlock pondered Greg's words for a moment as he pulled on his cigarette, savouring the taste and the feeling as the nicotine coursed through his veins sending him a little light headed. It had been a while since he'd had the delight of smoking; Music had kept his mind off his addiction but now, just one couldn't hurt. "Murder" Sherlock finally said in a tone so different to the one he'd used earlier "what was so complicated about this one, Lestrade?"

"No matter how simple it looks, the complexity of a case always increases when a child is involved."

The two men sat in silence, smoking, until Sherlock finally took his last drag and flicked the spent cigarette away. The nicotine had stopped the shaking and he was now ready to go back in and take a proper look. "Where's John?" He asked Greg, standing up.

"The last time I saw him, he was hyperventilating behind the tent."

Sherlock made his way back and found John hovering around, waiting for him. "Come on, John" The detective commanded as he ducked into the tent for the second time "no time like the present!"

"Where were you?" John asked breathlessly, following Sherlock back into the tent "I saw you walk away, what were you doing?"

"I needed to think" came the younger man's reply "_alone_ and then Lestrade decided that it would be alright to invade my privacy."

"You freaked out, didn't you?"

Sherlock stopped just short of the woman's body and turned to look at John. "I did not _freak out_" he denied "I simply needed a moment or two alone without all of this mindless chatter going on."

"Hmm" John cocked an eyebrow "sure, Sherlock, I would believe you but you've been smoking and you only smoke if-"

"Oh do shut up, John" he snapped before dropping down beside the body. Lestrade was right, the woman _had_ been stabbed four times in the heart but, after searching the body and the pockets, it didn't take him more than two seconds to figure out who the murderer was. "It was the husband." Sherlock stated.

"How did you-"

"Her wedding band is dirty which means that she doesn't take the time to clean it; the only photo she has in her wallet is of her son. She has bruises on her face and marks around her neck, the colouring has faded which means they weren't apart of the attack tonight and the size of the bruises indicate that it was a man because, theoretically, they are stronger and more forceful than women. This woman was in an abusive, unhappy, marriage. The husband stabbed the wife, more than once, indicating anger but he smothered the child, showing a little more mercy for his son than he did his wife." Sherlock turned toward the child and noted the blue tinge around the boys mouth. He stood and made for the exit.

"Any luck, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked as they passed.

"You're looking for the husband" Sherlock told him before heading back to the road to hail a taxi.

**The thoughts of Sherlock Holmes.**

_'Something happened to me today, something that had only happened once before; fear. The moment I saw that boy dead on the ground, my mind warped him to look like Music._

_I felt normal, something that always unnerves me; I'm Sherlock Holmes, human emotion is supposed to evade me, I don't understand sentimentality, fear or love but, it seems, that where Music is concerned I am nothing more than a mere human. Stupidly in love with my daughter, wearing my heart on my sleeve, never being able to say no and scared to death that I might someday see her dead body under cover of an orange tent after being strangled or stabbed._

_The only other time I had felt intense fear was back when John and I were investigating Baskerville but then I'd been drugged, inhaling the narcotic as I walked through the mist put in place to keep Henry Knight scared and deluded about the death of his father but this time, I was sober and clean, making the situation that much more embarrassing._

_I am not normal; I am above human emotions and to lose my nerve in that way could well ruin my reputation. It could change how my mind works, delaying my deductions, or even giving me wrong answers._

_I know that both John and Mary had their reservations about me being responsible for something other than myself and I don't blame them; taking care of myself was never my highest priority and changing her name to Music only seemed to worry them further. The couple used to take turns watching me when she first joined us, ensuring that I'd fed her, bathed her or changed her. I didn't know it then but taking care of Music had become my top priority and everything else was put second to her care, including solving cases._

_It was John who helped me realise that there was nothing I could do about it; Music is my daughter and there is nothing in the world I wouldn't do for her or give to her. I want to see her happy, I don't want her to end up like me; almost friendless, isolated and unsociable, hated amongst those she works with and taunted for being different. John helped me to see that, even though she inherited my looks, my intelligence and most of my personality, she inherited humanity from her mother and, therefore, can feel emotion._

_Every time she looks at me and says 'daddy, I love you' it confuses me; why would this sweet, beautiful, child love me. A cold, unfeeling man who has a hard time being polite to his best friend but, thinking about it, my confusion is absurd because I love her too.'_

**221B Baker Street**

John was second out of the taxi and was surprised that Sherlock hadn't gone into the house; he was staring at the door as though it was the strangest thing in the world to him.

"Sherlock" John put a hand on the detectives shoulder. "Are you ok, mate?"

"Of course, John" Sherlock replied quietly "why wouldn't I be?"

With a sigh, the older man moved around the detective and placed his other hand on Sherlock's free shoulder. "I understand how you feel. We've never had to deal with the death of a child before now and-"

"_Feelings_" Sherlock spat ferociously "feelings are for the weak, I don't think the same way as you; you're normal, infuriatingly stupid and boring."

He'd resorted to insults, meaning that Sherlock was disturbed by the scene they'd witnessed and so John did something he never would have done in any normal circumstance; he wrapped his arms around his best friend and pulled him into a close, comforting embrace. Feeling John's strong arms around him, Sherlock finally gave in to the fear that had been bubbling close to the surface since entering the tent for the first time and returned John's embrace, burying his head into his shoulder. John hadn't expected this reaction from the detective; Sherlock rarely shed tears and when he did, John wasn't around to witness them.

"It's alright" John told him in a soft, soothing, tone. "It's alright, Sherlock; everything's fine."

John Watson wasn't about to break the hug; he _needed_ to see Sherlock's human side every now and again and this was one of those rare times that Sherlock would openly show him that he wasn't the emotionless robot people made him out to be; it may not be the detective's choice to break the façade but, either way, John wasn't complaining.

Back inside the flat, upon hearing car doors slam, Mary had hurried over to the window and peered out to see her husband and her son's godfather wrapped in a tight embrace. She'd never seen the two men exchange anything more than a handshake or a very manly slap on the back before now and she frowned in concern.

The murder they'd just come from must have shaken Sherlock severely for him to accept human contact that didn't involve his daughter. Sure, she'd seen the man pick John up and squeeze him in excitement but that was just Sherlock; he had absolutely no idea about other people's personal space and so he'd touch and hug…even punch without even realising he was infiltrating an area that he should have been invited into but no one would dare do it to him.

"Is daddy home?" Charlie asked, tugging on his mother's cardigan, pulling her attention away from the window.

Mary looked down at her son and sighed when she found that he'd completely undressed himself. Muse never went through the 'naked' phase so why couldn't Charlie follow her example. "Charlie, where are you pyjamas?"

"I did a poo in them" the child stated.

"Charlie, you haven't been in nappies for a year; why did you poo in your pyjamas?"

Charlie looked down at his feet as he said "I coughed and did a poo, it was an accident."

Mary sighed again before taking her son's hand "come on; let's get you back in the bath."

"NO!" Charlie screamed before running away from his mother as fast as his legs would carry him.

Back outside 221B, Sherlock pulled away from John and turned his head to the side and swiped angrily at his face, removing the fallen tears; he was furious at himself for cracking in front of John.

"It's alright, Sherlock" John assured him.

"This stays between us" he replied sternly, sniffing "understand?"

"Of course" the older man nodded "between us; my mouth is zipped."

Sherlock nodded before turning on his heel and finally entering 221B just in time to see Charlie Watson streak down the stairs and smack straight in him. He grabbed the boy by the shoulders and stared down at him. "Finally worked out how to unlock the stair gate?"

"I don't want a bath!" Charlie huffed as Mary clumped into view.

"Well I don't want one either" Sherlock replied.

"It's your own fault, Charlie" Mary stated, reaching the bottom of the stairs and taking his hand.

"It was an accident!" The child shrieked as his mother picked him up and threw him over her shoulder, accidentally showing Sherlock _why_ her son needed to bathe.

"Beautiful" the detective grimaced before skirting around them and heading up to the flat to find his daughter.

Music was in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, in her nightdress, with a notepad settled on her lap. Sherlock watched her for a moment, taking in the look of concentration on her face as she held a pencil in her hand and sketched whatever image was playing on her mind at that moment in time before heading in and settling himself next to her, peering at her artwork.

It was another beautiful picture; whatever Music chooses to draw impresses Sherlock, she just seems to have a knack when it comes to creativity. This picture was of herself, when she was younger, with her hands on either side of her father's face as they touched their noses and foreheads together.

"I missed you, dad" she announced as she put her pencil and notepad to one side and wrapping her arms around her father's neck as she shuffled onto his lap.

"I missed you too" he replied, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Drawing back from him, Music frowned as she touched his face with her right hand, tracing the lines of his forehead with her index finger. "Why are you sad?" She asked.

Sherlock smiled, remembering that Music never misses anything and knows, before anyone else, what mood he's in. "It's just been a long night" he told her gently, pulling her closer.

"The case?" She inquired.

"The case" Sherlock confirmed.

"Did you solve it?" Her father nodded. "Then what's wrong?"

"Music" Sherlock sighed, disregarding her question "I don't think I tell you often enough that I love you."

The girl grinned; she knew how he felt about her, even if he didn't say it out loud, but it was nice to hear it from time to time. "I know" Music confirmed "I love you too."

A knock on the door brought the conversation to an abrupt end and Mary appeared in the doorway. "Hey, I'm not disturbing anything am I?"

"Music was just showing me her drawing" Sherlock replied as he stood up, supporting his daughter in his arms as he did so.

"She's wonderful isn't she" Mary smiled, remembering the drawing that was now stuck to the fridge. "Anyway, Sherlock, I was wondering if you could take Charlie to school in the morning; John and I have a doctor's appointment."

The detective stared at Mary for a moment. She'd been complaining of feeling peaky for a couple of weeks and it didn't take him long to guess what the issue was; the lack of feminine products in the main bathroom, her increased appetite, morning sickness. Yes, Mary and John Watson were now expecting their second child but, unlike the first time, Sherlock said nothing and instead turned to his daughter. "What do you think, Muse?"

"Hmm" she frowned, taking in the woman and coming to her own conclusion "I should think that'll be alright."

"Thank you" Mary winked before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

Music stared at the door for a moment before looking up at Sherlock and saying "she's pregnant isn't she?"


	7. Chapter 7

That night, Sherlock had another bout of his insomnia and stayed awake all night composing music. Music always helps to clear his mind; he finds that composing can help sort his thoughts and now he was using it to not only sort his thoughts but his new found feelings as well and when morning finally dawned he found himself to be more relaxed than he would have been if he had slept.

Mary was the first up, appearing in her dressing gown at just gone six; she wasn't surprised to see that Sherlock was up as she knew that his sleeping habits were erratic. He could go days without sleeping, sometimes even a week, and sometimes he did nothing _but_ sleep. John had briefly explained, still keeping his word to Sherlock, what had happened the night before and so Mary guessed that he'd not even attempted to sleep.

"Morning, Sherlock" she said brightly, coming over to where he was standing and giving him a swift hug. Sherlock stiffened at her touch causing Mary to chuckle lightly. "Would you like some tea?"

"Please" Sherlock mumbled, setting his violin down.

He, John and Mary, some time ago now, had made some kind of silent agreement; as all three of them were usually always up around six/half six, the first person up, as soon as the second person had come down, would go and rouse the children whilst the second person sorted out tea and breakfast. The last person, in this case was John, would be stuck making the lunches.

When John and Mary had moved back in, pregnant with Charlie, Mrs Hudson had agreed to let them convert the attic. The plan was to just do something simple but that attic had been huge and so, planning for the future, two large bedrooms and a bathroom had been built, still leaving room enough for an open space, where the stairs come out, for a toy room and that's where Sherlock headed; climbing the stairs, up to the attic, quietly.

It didn't take a genius to guess that one of the children was already awake; Sherlock could hear the squeaks of bed springs from the closest bedroom, indicating that Charlie was jumping on his bed. He opened the door to Charlie's blue bedroom and found the boy, as he'd guessed, jumping on his bed completely and utterly naked.

"Charlie" Sherlock frowned, plucking the boy out of the air mid jump and placing him on the floor, "where are your clothes?"

"On the floor" Charlie replied.

"Well, are you going to put them on then?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"I don't want to!"

"You need to" Sherlock told him.

"Why?"

"Because nudity is frowned upon."

"Why?"

Sherlock paused, with his mouth open. He himself would be happy not to be confined to clothes but, whenever he walked around the flat with nothing on, John would order him to dress. Sherlock considered himself as a bit of an exhibitionist; he was comfortable with how he looked naked and the feeling of being free, not having scratchy material irritating your skin was so much more appealing but he didn't do it so much now; not because of female company or the fact that there was always children around but because the last time he'd gone nude, he'd managed to catch his private area in a drawer and it still smarted every time he thought about it; he still couldn't remember _how_ it had even happened. "Because it just is!" He finally replied as he grabbed Charlie's yellow t-shirt, grey trousers and blue jumper from the floor, throwing them on the bed before finding him underwear.

"If I have to wear pants, can I at least have my Thomas ones?" The boy asked.

"Thomas ones?" Sherlock frowned and then noticed a pair of pants with Thomas the Tank Engine on them. "These?" Charlie grinned and nodded frantically. "Thomas socks too?"

"No, Superman."

Sherlock plucked a bunched up pair of Superman socks from the chest of drawers and threw them, with the pants, at Charlie. "I'm going to get Music, I want you dressed by the time I come back in and if you're not then I'll be letting the monster under your bed out whilst you're sleeping tonight."

Charlie blinked at his Godfather in shock before nodding and scrambling into his pants.

Music was so much easier to deal with in the morning; she didn't seem to be obsessed with nudity, although she would quite happily walk around naked if her father gave her permission to, and almost always is already dressed when Sherlock, John or Mary comes in to fetch her for breakfast; today was no different. When Sherlock entered her bedroom, Music was sitting on her bed dressed and waiting for him.

"You can come down stairs if you're awake" Sherlock told her as he gave her a brief hug "you don't have to wait until someone comes up to get you."

"I know" she shrugged "I like thinking so I don't mind."

Sherlock smiled fondly at his daughter before bending over and pecking her on the forehead "good morning, sweet thing."

"Morning, daddy" Music giggled.

"Sherlock" Charlie called, sounding muffled "can you help me?"

If Sherlock was slowly deciding that Charlie wasn't quite as idiotic as he thought, then walking into the child's bedroom to find him with his head stuck halfway down the sleeve of his school jumper wasn't really helping matters. "Charlie" Sherlock sighed, yanking him free "your head goes through the hole, not the sleeve!"

Morning, in 221B Baker Street, is always hectic no matter how quietly it starts but this particular morning was bordering on post war chaos. Charlie was being a brat; the moment that both of his parents had left the flat the boy began to push Sherlock's buttons and it wasn't until the child had just ruined his tenth chance of getting out of the flat on time for school did Sherlock lose his temper.

7:00 – refused to eat porridge

7:15 – splattered Sherlock with porridge

7:20 – threw porridge on the floor

7:32 – refused to drink juice

7:50 – splattered floor with said juice

7:55 – hid under Sherlock's bed

8:01 – pulled temper tantrum when he was found

8:16 – stripped down to his underwear

8:25 – removed underwear

8:30 – did a poo in his underwear when he was forced back into them.

"That's it!" Sherlock bellowed, now at the very end of his tether; he picked up Charlie's uniform and threw it into a plastic bag before picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder, being careful to avoid the soiled underwear. "If you want to parade around naked then I'm not going to stop you; let's see what your mother has to say about this!"

The detective marched out of 221B Baker Street with Charlie, almost naked, over his shoulder and with Music following behind, thoroughly enjoying herself as she watched the boy struggling in her father's grip as he screamed "Not MUMMY!"

Sherlock walked all the way to the surgery, ignoring the stares of passers-by, and got there just as John and Mary were coming out, grinning widely. The smiles slid from their faces when they spotted their half-naked son over Sherlock's shoulder. Their friend did _not_ look happy; he had dried porridge in his hair, his face and his neck. Both John and Mary knew that Charlie must have been a horror for Sherlock to come here like this. "Sherlock" John stuttered "what are-"

"I believe _this_ is yours" he spat angrily.

"Oh Sherlock" Mary said, trying not to laugh at him "we're so sorry."

"You will be" Sherlock replied, thrusting the bag at them and said "he did a shit in his pants too" before picking up Music and heading back the way they came.

That evening was John and Mary's wedding anniversary get together and 221B Baker Street had never looked as immaculately clean as it did right then. Mary had spent the entire afternoon and most of the evening scrubbing every inch of the place whilst Sherlock was attempting to braid Music's hair.

"I think you may have to YouTube it, daddy" Music stated after his fifth failed attempt.

Knowing that his daughter was right, he quickly pulled the site up on his phone and watched a five minute tutorial on braiding. His next attempt, his last attempt, turned out more perfect than the girls hair on the tutorial. "There" he sighed happily, handing Music a mirror.

"You did it!" She exclaimed as she peered at her reflection.

"Well, I don't know why you sound so surprised" Sherlock replied, feeling a little offended. "Come on" he stood up, pulling his daughter up with him "let's have a look at you then."

Music twirled around for him, showing her father her pretty hair, her pretty face and her pretty dress; the dress she'd chosen is white with silver sparkles adorning the material and Sherlock have braided white ribbons, artistically, into her hair. "Do I look pretty" she asked "like Mary?"

"Prettier" Sherlock assured her "you're prettier than the prettiest, Music; you always have been and you _always_ will be."

"Let's see the damage then" John joked as he entered Sherlock's room. When he'd been told that Sherlock would be sorting Music's outfit out for the party, he'd laughed rather hard. He took in the little girl and smiled; Sherlock Holmes had, once again, proven him wrong. "You look beautiful, Muse" he told the child "your dad did a good job."

"Where's Charlie?" Music asked "is he still hiding in the airing cupboard?"

"Nope, I fished him out of there ten minutes ago" John replied "he's in the kitchen with Mary, Mrs Hudson and Janine."

"Janine?" Sherlock questioned "when did she get here and why didn't you tell me?" He looked at John, then at Music and then hurried from the room.

"Who's Janine?" Music asked John.

John smiled at her, shaking his head before saying "a long time coming" and following Sherlock from the room.

Watching Sherlock with Janine at his wedding, John knew that they had some kind of connection; it didn't take someone like Sherlock to see that Janine was interested in him but, in some sense, it _would_ take someone who wasn't Sherlock to see it because when it comes to women, the detective is completely oblivious.

"Janine" Sherlock had appeared beside the woman who'd been chief bridesmaid at the Watson's wedding; he'd not seen her since and, unusually, he found that he'd missed her. She'd kept him busy, giving him an excuse to show off.

"My, _my_, Sherlock Holmes" she smiled "you're looking just as sexy as the last time I saw you."

Sherlock smirked; vanity was not _usually_ a weakness but in this case…

"Daddy!" Music hurtled herself at her father, who caught her and picked her up.

"Daddy?" Janine frowned, taking in the girl who couldn't be any older than five years old and noting that she was almost a female clone of Sherlock "have I missed something?"

"Oh, it's a long story" Sherlock sighed, noting that Music had impeccable timing.

"Are you going to introduce us then?" Janine asked.

"Oh yes, sorry, how rude of me; Janine, this is Music" Music grinned at the woman as she clung to her father; she wasn't about to let him have _another _girl in his life, she wasn't about to get replaced. "Music, this is Janine; she was Mary's chief bridesmaid at their wedding."

Janine frowned "_Music_? Sherlock Holmes, why on earth-"

"_That_ is a conversation that has been and gone" the detective interrupted.

"Alright then; hello Music, it's nice to meet you."

Music narrowed her eyes at Janine, taking her in. "You're very pretty" she stated.

"Well, thank you" the woman smiled, slightly taken aback "so are you; you look very much like your daddy."

"He's not pretty" Music snorted "he's a man and men aren't pretty!"

Janine smiled for a moment before saying "I think your father is very pretty anyway" she turned to Sherlock "I'm going down for a breath of fresh air."

Sherlock put Music down and said "I'll come with you."

By eleven, the party had all but come to an end and the only people left in 221B Baker Street were Charlie, Music and Mrs Hudson who'd all fallen asleep on the sofa by nine; Sherlock and Janine, who were talking by the fire and John and Mary who were watching them.

John had noticed that the two hadn't left the other's side since the beginning of the party and it confused him. Sherlock was interested in interesting, intellectual people and Janine didn't seem to be any of these things, no to someone like Sherlock anyway.

"We should leave them alone" Mary whispered "give them some privacy."

"Privacy!" John snorted "why would Sherlock Holmes want privacy with a woman?"

But Mary nudged him as she said "we'd better put the children to bed, John" and moved across the room to collect Charlie from the sofa. Sighing, John reluctantly followed suit.

**Sherlock Holmes**

The fire light lit up the flat; it was gone midnight and the room was empty but for himself and Janine. Neither of them had much desire to sleep, a fact that wasn't unusual when it came to Sherlock Holmes but Janine looked weary.

"Are you tired?" The detective asked in concern "you can use my bed if you wish; I won't be sleeping tonight."

"If I was tired, Sherlock, I would have told you." Janine retorted, smiling a little.

Sherlock was beginning to feel strange again; it was some kind of squirming in his stomach that had started the moment he'd heard John say Janine's name. It felt a little like the way he felt when he thought about his daughter but this was different, in a way, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

Janine placed a hand over one of his, which was resting on the arm of his chair, sending little electric shocks up his arm and making the hairs stand on end. This, again, was something he'd never experienced before but he knew the symptoms; he's seen it in John and Mary when they looked at each other, he'd seen it in Molly whenever he was around her and he was seeing it in Janine as she stared right back at him.

Attraction; increased heart rate, dilated pupils, sweating, a churning sensation in his stomach…attraction was what he was feeling and it scared him.

"There's something about you, Mr Holmes" Janine whispered "but I can't put my finger on what it is." She lightly rubbed the skin of his hand with her thumb, causing his breathing to catch in his throat.

"I'm stubborn" He stated.

"Me too."

"I'm a bastard; I'm rude, childish and the most insolent man you'll ever meet."

"You're interesting" she told him "pretty, creative, artistic. _Sexy_."

"I've been compared to a cold, _unfeeling_, robot."

Janine pinched his hand, hard, causing him to hiss. "Unfeeling?" She said, kissing his hand better, "myth" she then moved her hand to cup his cheek "cold? Also a myth; Sherlock Holmes" the woman whispered, drawing her face closer "I just busted you."

"Myth busters" he breathed, watching her invade his personal space more and more by the second and not caring. "Janine" Sherlock whispered "what are you doing?"

"I'm going to kiss you, Sherlock Holmes, and I am not asking for your permission."

Sherlock had never done this before, not that he could remember anyway, and he was starting to panic about all of the wrong things; what if he didn't do it right? What if she kissed him and regretted it because he was so bad at it? What if, what _if_, _what_ if…

A year or so ago, his worries would be about hygiene and his reputation but they'd been shut up in some corner of his brain, chained down so that they couldn't escape but when her lips met his everything slowed down to a complete stop; his thoughts, the world around him and time.

There was no one in the _world,_ at that point in time, that Sherlock Holmes cared about because all that did matter was the kiss; taking place here and now.

Time restarted again when they finally parted; neither party knew how much time had passed but Sherlock needed time alone with his thoughts. "You can-" his words came out croaky and so he cleared his throat and started again "you can sleep in my bed" the detective told Janine "I have no use for it tonight."

A short time later, the only thing that could be heard throughout 221B Baker Street were the soft, slow, _beautiful_ notes that no one other than Sherlock Holmes could create with his violin.

* * *

*****SPOILER ALERT S3,E3***YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED*****

**I have disregarded anything to do with Mary's past and Janine and Sherlock's 'relationship' in Season 3, episode 3 so, in this, ****_that never happened_****...purely for the reason that I'd already started writing this before episode 3 was aired and didn't account for it.**

**Part 8 should be up soon!**


	8. Chapter 8

John Watson got off to a slow start which was unusual for a Monday morning; rarely, both he and his wife had the entire day off and it seemed that Mary had let him sleep in. The beautiful sound of a violin; no, _two_ violins was such a treat to wake up to. The music was slow, steady and peaceful which helped with his mood as he slid out of bed. Mary's side of the bed was cold but, given the time, it wasn't too much of a surprise.

The doctor sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, deliberating whether or not to change into every day clothes or to just throw on his dressing gown.

_'Fuck it'_ he thought to himself as he grabbed his dressing gown from the back of the bedroom door _'it's Saturday.'_ When he reached the sitting room, he found that Muse and Sherlock were playing their violin's together and that Mary, Charlie and Janine were watching them on the sofa; Janine was wearing one of Sherlock's shirts, implying that she hadn't yet left. Charlie, as usual, was wearing nothing but Sherlock's deerstalker.

"Morning" he announced, picking his son up from the sofa so that there was space for him and replacing Charlie on his lap. "You're still here?" He asked their guest.

"Apparently;" Janine smiled "it was too late to get home last night so Sherl offered me his bed."

Music instantly stopped playing, her violin and bow falling to the floor as she released them from her grip. "You slept in daddy's bed?" She asked feeling the green monster of jealously rise up inside of her.

"He was the perfect gentleman" she smiled "that's what men do, offer women their beds when they're tired."

"Yeah but Sherlock's _Sherlock_" John stated completely oblivious to the look Music was giving Janine "he doesn't do what everyone else does."

"No!" The child shouted, stamping her foot and making everyone, including her father, fall silent; she'd _never_ acted out before. She'd always been rather pleasant; never pulling tantrums or crying for attention, it just wasn't the kind of thing that Music Holmes had ever done and so everyone just stared at her in complete and utter shock. She glared at Janine and then at her dad before running out of the room and up towards the attic.

Everyone turned to stare at Sherlock. "What?" He frowned "_I_ wasn't sharing the same bed!"

"He's right" Janine confirmed "he didn't sleep last night."

"Sherlock," Mary sighed "she's jealous; you need to go after her and tell her that she's not being put to one side."

"Why on _earth_ would she think that?" The detective asked, frowning as he placed his violin down before picking up Music's violin and placing it beside his.

"Maybe because she thinks you spent the night with a woman she doesn't know;" John suggested sarcastically "or because you spent most of last night ignoring her?"

Mary stepped in again "Sherlock, _you_ are the only person in the world who fully understands her and she's had nothing but your attention since she first came here; now she thinks that things are changing and you need to show her that they're not."

Closing his eyes, Sherlock went back to last night; he distinctly remembered Music trying to show him something on multiple occasions but, every time, he'd told her "show me later, Music." Janine had taken his attention away from the most important thing in his life and, even though spending time with someone other than his daughter most definitely wasn't a crime, he instantly felt guilty that he'd all but pushed her to one side. "Alright" he sighed, returning to reality and getting up from his chair "I'll speak to her."

When Sherlock reached his daughter's bedroom, he found looking at a picture she'd drawn. It was of Janine and, again, her artwork was flawless. The picture of Janine was smiling widely but Music had also written words around the portrait. The words _Liar, media whore_ and_ manipulator_ were written over and over again. "Music?"

"Dad" Music frowned as she turned around to look at him. "I know what everyone is saying but I'm not jealous! I don't mind you spending time with other people; everyone, including me, would be thrilled if you actually got a girlfriend but not her. You _can't_ read her; for some reason you can't see what she's really like."

"What do you mean?"

"I can see that you like her, dad; you spent the whole evening with her but she's not a nice person." Music stared at her father before shrugging "you don't have to believe me but I wouldn't lie about something like this."

Sherlock sighed again and nodded. In the five years he'd spent with his daughter, he'd never heard her say anything that wasn't untrue. "Come here" he finally smiled, opening his arms to receive her when she walked over to him. "I'm sorry that I didn't come to you first."

"I'm only five" Music reminded him "I don't expect you to discuss personal stuff with me."

"Ok" the detective chuckled "but, if there was anyone you think that I could be with, who would it be?"

The little girl smiled to herself for a moment before saying "you can't _just_ fall for someone, dad, but I _really_ like Molly. She's so genuine, so easy to read and she's never told a lie."

Molly Hooper had been in love with the detective for as long as she'd known him; always making painful efforts for him to notice her. Using makeup, removing or adding that horrible red lipstick she seems to think he favours and changing how she has her hair. Before Music, Molly irritated him immensely; following him around like a lost puppy, simpering and pouting in his direction…giving him gifts for his birthday or Christmas and taunting her had been his favourite thing to do; that is until she grew a back bone and started standing up to him and, since then, Sherlock couldn't deny that she'd grown on him. She had also been a big help with Music, showing Sherlock that she was pretty good with children. "Molly" he stated, frowning.

"Mhmm" Music smiled "I really like Molly and I was thinking that, maybe, you could at least _try_ to like her?"

"But you wouldn't like it if Janine stuck around?"

The little girl grimaced and frantically shook her head "no, I wouldn't."

"And you're sure that it's nothing more than the fact that she's pretending to be nice when she actually isn't?"

"She exploits famous people for money, daddy, so unless you want your name spread across tomorrow's newspaper with a lie printed underneath then I'd leave your relationship with her right where it is."

Sherlock was used to lies and rumours when it came to his personal life but they'd slowed down a lot with the last few years. When Music first came to him, a newspaper printed that he'd had a one night stand with Joan Waters, a woman who'd been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and then when she'd contacted him, announcing her pregnancy, he told her that he wanted nothing to do with her or the unborn baby. The story was half true, he _had_ had a one night stand with a woman called Joan Waters who did have terminal cancer but, until she turned up with their three month old, he'd not heard from her. "Alright, Music" he agreed "we'll do it your way."

"I don't understand" Janine hissed at Sherlock in the kitchen "why would you kiss me if you weren't interested in being anything more than friends?"

"Acquaintances" Sherlock corrected "and I didn't kiss you, you kissed me."

"But you kissed me back!" She protested.

Sherlock nodded "I was hung up on the moment; Janine, I'm sorry."

The woman stared at Sherlock for a moment or two before grabbing her back and saying "you will be!" before showing herself out.

The detective stared at the door, Janine had just slammed behind her, frowning; the way she'd acted, you'd thing that he'd just finished a relationship that they hadn't even had. "Are you alright?" John asked, entering the kitchen and started going through the motions of making tea.

"Of course, John" Sherlock stated, turning around and smiling at his friend before stating "I'm going to the lab."

**Molly Hooper**

After last night, Molly wasn't feeling her best. She'd thought that going to John and Mary's wedding anniversary would be fun but after seeing Janine, Mary's chief bridesmaid, fawning all over Sherlock _and_ Sherlock letting her, she'd drunk a little too much red wine and woke up with one of the worst hangovers she'd ever had but she dragged herself into work, deciding that it would be better to work than to stay at home moping.

Sherlock had come on in leaps and bounds since he'd become a father; he wasn't quite as mean as he had been before Music who'd seemed to humanise him. Molly loved that little girl, most everyone who knows her does because everyone considers themselves as a parent to her in some way but Molly loved her for a few reasons; one being that she'd helped her father in ways no one else could and another being that it was almost impossible _not_ to love her.

Sighing, she took a long swig of coffee and turned toward the door only to see two faces grinning at her through the window. Molly jumped and choked on her coffee, spilling some of it down her white lab coat. "Shoot" she muttered, dabbing hopelessly at the stain.

"Baking soda!" Sherlock stated, walking in with Music on his shoulders "soak it overnight and the stain should come right out."

"Oh" she said breathlessly "thanks, Sherlock. Hello, Music" she smiled at the child.

Music, who was keeping her balance by keeping a firm hold on her father's brunette curls, wave at her and giggled when Sherlock pulled her off his shoulders, caught her ankles before the tips of her fingers hit the floor, and held her upside down for a moment or two, causing her t-shirt to fall over her face. Molly loved watching the two together and had always thought that he was a fantastic father, putting his daughter before everything else. "Music has something she wants to give you." Sherlock informed Molly, letting go of Music's ankles and letting her drop to the floor.

This seemed to be a regular thing for the two of them because, when Sherlock let go of her, she landed neatly on her hands and dropped without hurting herself before getting to her feet, her face bright red but still with a smile stretched across her lips. "One second" Music said before dashing out of the lab.

"So" Molly smiled "how was Janine this morning?"

"Fine" the Detective nodded "but I have a feeling that I might be featured on the front page of the newspaper tomorrow morning."

"Why?" She asked, frowning.

"It's just a feeling" Sherlock replied just as Music returned with one hand behind her back.

"Molly" the child said seriously "I had a very important chat with my dad, this morning, and got him to dump Janine for _you_" she pulled her hand out from behind her back and presented Molly with one dozen red roses.

"One second" Sherlock frowned "I _didn't_ dump Janine because we weren't together and I didn't dump her for you _but_, Molly Hooper, I am willing to put the past aside and ask for your forgiveness…perhaps over dinner tonight?"

Molly was speechless; all she seemed to be able to do, as she took in his words, was blink at him as he face turned red. They stared at each other in silence until Molly was able to form her words. "You're asking me out?"

"Yes" replied Sherlock.

"And you're not joking?"

"I don't joke, Molly, you know that."

"And it's not for a case?" She checked.

"Molly" Sherlock sighed "I am asking you out because I would be honoured to share the pleasure of your company over dinner; there is no ulterior motive."

Molly didn't know what to think; he'd never asked her out in the past and when he'd asked to meet her it was usually for a case. "Well, I'll have to get back to you" she told him, not wanting come off as desperate.

"Why?" The detective frowned, not expecting that to be her answer.

"I might have plans."

"No" he smirked "you're free, I checked _but_ I will text you with the details and I will be there, at that time, waiting for you; I hope you won't stand me up…that would be embarrassing."

Both Molly and Sherlock knew that he wouldn't end up being stood up; this is something she's been waiting for and would definitely not pass up the chance of going on a date with him. "I'll be in touch" was all she said, smiling before going back to work.

**Sherlock Holmes**

"Did she say yes, daddy?" Music, who'd been examining a human brain whilst her father was asking Molly out, asked as she clung onto Sherlock's hair whilst he walked through town, peering into shop windows.

"Not in words, no." The detective smiled, remembering that glint in Molly's eyes giving him her true answer. She'd be at the restaurant probably ten minutes later than the time he'd text her; Molly Hooper, after years of pining after him, didn't want to seem too keen.

Sherlock finally stopped outside a small restaurant just outside down and peered in through the window. Inside it was red quilted, intimate and, looking at a menu which had been stuck to the window, wasn't predominantly Italian food; the exact thing he was looking for. Tightening his grip on his daughter's ankles, he continued on his way, storing the telephone number in his mind so that he could call and make a reservation later.

_6:00pm – West Wings; reservation - Holmes. SH_

"Sherlock" John said after clearing his throat "can we talk to you?"

Sherlock grunted, not bothering to look up from the muted television. Music was curled up, asleep, on his lap; both of her hands clutching his left hand in her sleep.

"Can you turn that off?" John requested.

"Why?" Asked Sherlock, still not turning his gaze away from the TV "the sound is off, it's not bothering anyone."

John sighed "it's bothering _me_."

"Sherlock" it was Mary's turn "please?"

"Oh _fine_" the detective huffed.

John ignored the glare Sherlock was giving him as he switched the box off before standing in front of it with his arm around his wife. "We have an announcement to make" he stated. Sherlock waited with raised eyebrows, he already knew what they were going to tell him. "Mary and I" John cleared his throat "well, Mary is-"

"Oh do spit it out, John" Sherlock barked "I have a date to prepare for!"

"Ok, well- _hang on_" the older man frowned "did you say 'date'?"

"Hmm" the detective grunted, softly running his right hand through Music's dark curls "yes, I did."

"Who with?"

"John, I have an hour before I need to be there and in that time I need to bathe, find a suitable outfit and purchase flowers so I really would appreciate it if you stopped changing the subject and tell me what you need to tell me so that I can go and get ready."

His best friend stared at him for a moment or two, looking incredulous, before nodding "fine; Sherlock, Mary and I are expecting another baby."

"I know."

"She's 22 weeks gone and- you _know_? How!"

"Deductions, John" Sherlock sighed, standing up with Music cradled in his arms before placing her back down and covering her with a throw. "I knew almost straight away." He gave John his best smiled before heading for the bathroom and saying "I assume you're available to babysit for me tonight" before he shut the door behind him.

"That man" John snarled. He knew that he didn't really have a right to be angry with Sherlock because he was used to his thoughtlessness and his teasing; he knew that Sherlock had probably figured out about the pregnancy but he had no idea that he'd keep quiet about it. Keeping secrets, unless it was for a case or to irritate John, wasn't the kind of thing Sherlock did.

"Who's he going on a date with?" Mary asked.

Her husband shook his head "I don't know, Janine?"

"Oh, he wouldn't dare" she laughed "not after the promise he made to Muse."

Both adults looked at the sleeping girl for a moment before John sighed again, breaking the silence. "Want to take the kids to McDonalds tonight?"

Mary frowned at him "you know how Sherlock feels about that place."

"I know" John smirked.

**Sherlock Holmes**

Picking out an outfit, Sherlock found was much harder than first thought; he'd never understood why it took women so long to get ready for a night out but now, having the same dilemma himself, he finally understood. Every time he tried a shirt on, it didn't look right; he even threw his favourite shirt to one side because it looked too creased even though it had been perfectly ironed not thirty minutes ago.

"I like the black one" Music stated; she was sitting on his bed, trying to help.

"I can't dress in all black" said Sherlock, wrinkling his nose as he did the black shirt up and turned toward the mirror.

"Black's slimming."

Sherlock turned to look at his daughter, frowning, before saying "are you saying that I'm fat?"

"Daddy, you're acting like a woman; stop being so picky and just keep the black shirt on!"

"You're avoiding the question" her father sang.

Music rolled her eyes "no, I'm not saying that you're fat."

A knock on the door brought the conversation to a halt and John peered around the door "Muse, we're going now."

The little girl squealed in excitement as she jumped off the bed before wrapping her arms around her father's waist "where are you going?" Sherlock asked, resting his hand on the top of Music's head.

"Out" John said but Music answer too.

"McDonalds!"

"John Watson, you are _not_ putting that sh- crap" he quickly corrected "into my child's body; I _forbid_ it!"

"Well, Sherlock" John sighed "if you'd have asked us to baby sit _before_ we'd made plans-"

"I forbid it, John, don't you dare!" The detective interrupted.

"Have a nice date." The older man smiled as he backed out of the room, taking Music with him who waved and grinned at him as she left.

"JOHN WATSON!"

"Goodbye, _Sherlock_" John called before heading down the stairs.

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted in one last attempt to stop John from feeding his daughter junk but the only response was the front door slamming.

The detective finally decided to go with the advice Music had given him and kept the black shirt on before accompanying it with black trousers, black shoes and his favourite, infamous, coat. He left his deerstalker where it was, hanging on the back of his door but, when he walked into the sitting room, he found his brother, Mycroft, had made himself at home in John's chair.

"I hope you don't have plans, brother" Mycroft stated lazily as he inspected his nail beds.

"Well actually" Sherlock began but was cut off

"_No_" his brother said "I've sent a car to collect John; he'll be meeting us soon."

Sherlock growled but knew that there was no way he was going to get out of this and, for the first time, was worried about what Molly Hooper would think when he didn't turn up at the restaurant tonight.

* * *

**I had every intention of pairing Sherlock with Janine but, after watching S3,E3 I just couldn't. Seeing them together, even if it was fake, ruined any fantasy I had of them being together and so I do apologise for those of you who wanted to see them together; I am ****_really_**** sorry.**

**Anyway; I hope you enjoyed this part. I should have another upload for you all tomorrow. **

**x**

**PS; I post some Sherlock stuff on my tumblr page. feel free to visit. (The link is on my profile page)**


	9. Chapter 9

"I hope that this is important" Sherlock fumed as he paced around his brother's office "I actually have a date tonight."

"Shame" Mycroft said, sounding not at all interested even though Sherlock knew that his older brother watched him and knew his plans before he'd voiced them out loud. "There I was thinking that you weren't interested in that area; tell me, where's your lovely daughter tonight?"

"You know very well where she is, Mycroft" he spat. "You know what?" Sherlock stopped his pacing and stared at his brother "whatever it is you need me for can wait for a couple of hours; _I have plans_ and I have no intention of standing my date up!" and he made for the exit.

"You leave this room, Sherlock, and you will regret it." Mycroft told him airily.

"I think I'll take that chance." Sherlock left the building and, just as a taxi pulled up, grabbed John just as he was getting out of a car. "Get in, John," he ordered his friend "we're not doing this tonight."

"Wait, what's going on?"

"Mycroft" Sherlock growled "and I'm not taking his crap tonight; I'm taking the cab to the restaurant and then you can go back to Mary."

John stared at the detective "you stood up to your brother?" It took a moment or two but Sherlock smiled "about time!" He slapped Sherlock on the shoulder as Sherlock gave the driver the address.

When Sherlock finally arrived at the restaurant, Molly was just leaving. "Molly, wait!" He called, jumping out of the taxi and running to over to catch her.

"I _believed_ you, Sherlock" Molly said, refusing to look at him "I really thought that you'd be there and-"

"I was on time!" Sherlock told her "Molly, I promise; ask John if you don't believe me!"

Molly stopped walking and sighed as she turned to stare at the man she could never stay angry with "what was it this time?" She asked quietly.

"My brother" the detective spat.

Understanding what that meant, Molly let it slide; she knew how much Mycroft irritated Sherlock and she knew that he frequently pulls him away without warning. "Ok" she nodded "alright."

"I am really sorry" Sherlock told her, surprising them both with his sincerity. He then held out his arm for Molly to take as he said "as it so happens, I thought of something better than a restaurant and it's only a short walk from here; I'd appreciate it if you would indulge me, just for a few moments, and I promise that you won't be disappointed."

Molly took his arm and fell into step beside him, wondering where it was he was taking her.

**The date**

Ten minutes later, they arrived at a secluded park. "Oh" Molly said, putting her hand to her mouth as she took in the scene before her "Sherlock, I didn't know that you could be so romantic." Somehow, Sherlock had managed to transform the entire park; covering the trees with lights, having candles floating in the pond and white rose petals making a path toward the pond where a man was waiting beside a small rowing boat.

"Well" Sherlock smiled "I had to find some way to apologise, didn't I?" On the drive to the restaurant, Sherlock had rung a few of his contacts and managed to get a quick picnic sorted out along with servers, dressed in tuxedos. One, waiting to row them into the island in the middle of the pond and two more waiting to serve Chinese food and wine.

"Sherlock" Molly gasped "this is all so beautiful, I'm so-" she shook her head as she searched for the correct word to express her feelings before saying "it's so perfect."

"I don't do dates, Molly Hooper" Sherlock told her "I didn't know how to do this, I didn't know what you'd like or what you didn't like; most of this was just guess work."

It was hard to believe that Sherlock had never been on a date before but this was perfect; _better_ than perfect. "This is fine" she assured him "it's perfect, really it is." Beaming, Sherlock lead the way down to the boat before stepping into it and offering a hand to Molly to help her in. "Thank you" she said breathlessly "but you don't have to."

"I know how to treat a woman, Molly" he informed her, taking her hand as she stepped in beside him.

"Good evening, Mr Holmes" the man, who was stood beside the boat, said as he waited for them to sit down before he stepped in himself "Miss Hooper."

The man stood at the back of the boat and rowed them toward the island. Molly was too transfixed with her surroundings and breathless with nervous excitement to say anything as she looked around, becoming more amazed by the second.

"You look wonderful tonight" Sherlock told her, taking her in properly for the first time; he meant it. She looked far from plain in her white cotton dress and her hair elaborately styled, hanging past her shoulders. She'd opted against makeup which Sherlock was glad of; he didn't see the point in it, it only masked the person beneath.

"Thank you" she said, taken aback; Sherlock only complimented her on her looks when he'd offended her. "Sherlock" Molly said when they were halfway across "why now?"

"What do you mean?" The detective asked in his adoringly sexy baritone voice.

"I've known you for years" she told him "so why become…interested enough in me to do _all_ of this?"

Sherlock thought carefully for a moment as he tried to explain, in words she'd understand, why, as she'd asked, _now_. "Music" he finally said, smiling slightly "she's taught, well _still_ teaching me how to love. I love my daughter, Molly, and she helped me to recognise the alien feelings and emotions that I'd never been able to understand before. I'm still trying to work them all out but" he paused, staring at a candle as they slowly moved past it "why now? Well, why not?"

"Why me?" She whispered, staring at the man with her big eyes.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock asked. His date shook her head. "_You_ are real" he informed her "you have no hidden identity, no reason to lie about anything; you are intelligent, funny, pretty and you put up with me so answer me this, Molly Hooper; why _me_?"

"You're wonderful" she blurted out before smiling in embarrassment "well, you're not; what I mean is that you are real. The way that you couldn't understand emotions helped you to say things, even though some of them were horrible, that no one would say; you're harshly honest but honesty is what makes someone a better person. You helped me" she admitted "I used to dress up when I knew you'd be coming to see me but now I don't because you told me that it looks horrible. Sherlock, at a distance you're complicated but when you take the time to look closer, to see more of what's underneath, you see a man who is just that, a man; he may be inhumanly intelligent, stubborn, childishly reckless and infuriating but that's just you and, since Music came along, you've become more tolerant of other people. It's attractive, everything about you is just so…attractive." She finished.

"I'm a sociopath" he told her swiftly.

Molly nodded "yes but, apparently, I like sociopaths."

Sherlock chuckled softly as they finished their journey across the pond and said "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Molly Hooper" before getting out and, once again, taking her hand to help her to shore.

The island was beautiful; of course it was, Sherlock Holmes had arranged it. Molly gazed around in awe, taking in more lights and more candles before noticing a small round table with two chairs set opposite to the other and two men, dressed like the first, in tuxedos stood with their hands behind their backs as they waited for the couple to sit.

"Are you cold?" Sherlock asked as he guided his date toward the middle of the island where their food was waiting.

"I'm fine" Molly replied honestly; if it was cold she wasn't feeling it, in fact she felt warm as though it was the middle of a summers day.

"Well tell me if you get cold" the detective requested, pulling out her chair and waiting until she'd taken her seat before taking his own opposite.

The table was laid out with silverware, wine glasses, napkins and even more candles. "Wine, madam?"

Molly looked up to see one of the men supporting a bottle of red wine in both of his hands, waiting patiently for her reply. "Oh, yes please." She stammered.

"And for you, sir?" Sherlock wasn't one for drink, it made him crave nicotine; but, on this occasion, he accepted the offer.

"I wasn't sure what food you liked" Sherlock admitted "but I settled with Chinese; everyone likes Chinese."

The woman, sitting opposite him, nodded "Chinese food is fine."

"Good" he smiled, taking a sip of wine before placing cartons of food onto the table "help yourself; there's more than enough."

Molly wasn't sure what to do; she'd been on dates before but they'd been with normal men, apart from Moriarty, and so conversation had been easy but, with Sherlock, she never knew what to say. "This is delicious" she finally stated.

"Mm" Sherlock agreed "I eat only the best and this, of course, is the best."

"Expensive?" She asked.

Sherlock slowly looked up from his hardly touched meal with raised eyebrows before saying "you want to talk about money?"

"N-no" Molly stuttered "I mean, I don't know what to talk about."

The detective put his knife and fork down and entwined his fingers together as he surveyed his date. "I am a man" he told her "just a man, there is no reason to be nervous around me."

"But you're not just a man" she told him "_you_ are a man that I look up to, that I respect; you scare me and yet there is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for you because-"

"Because I scare you." Sherlock interrupted.

She shook her head "no, because I love you." Molly stopped dead; she hadn't meant to say that. The words 'no, because I want you to like me' had been right at the tip of her tongue. "I, err, uhm; I hadn't meant to-"

"I know."

"What?"

"That you love me, I know." Molly blushed and turned away from him in embarrassment. "I've known for years; a person in love is easy to read."

"Then why are we here?" She asked "if you knew this, _why_ are we here?"

"_Because_" Sherlock smiled "you love me."

"But you said that you've known for years; why now, why not last week or last month?"

"Specifics, Molly; before now, I didn't really think about it. Music and I had a conversation this morning, about Janine, and she mentioned you; I agreed with her because she'd pulled a tantrum and I didn't want her to pull another but, I got thinking, she needs a mother and with Mary and John slowly moving on with their lives-"

"You would trust me to be-"

"Yes. I trust you, Molly Hooper; there are only three people I trust with my daughter and one of them is you."

The even came to an end slowly and, like a gentleman, Sherlock walked Molly home. "Would you like to come in?" She asked shyly as they reached her door "for coffee, I mean, not anything else; you don't have to, I just thought-"

Sherlock interrupted her babbling "I would love to join you for coffee, Molly, however I think that I might have a few issues at home I have to deal with."

"Mycroft?" She asked.

The detective hadn't given a second thought about his brother since reaching the park; he'd actually been thinking about John feeding his daughter fast food junk. "No, John took Music to McDonalds."

"Oh" Molly frowned and then remembered what Sherlock thought about those places "_oh_. Ok then."

"But" Sherlock said, taking her hand in his and holding it gently within his own "I'll be in touch."

"I had a really great time" she nodded "so thank you; I would really like to do it again…if you want."

Sherlock chuckled softly before leaning in and softly kissing her lips; even though it was only a quick peck, it left Molly breathless. "I had a good time too, Molly; goodnight."

"Night Sherlock." She whispered as she watched him walk away.

* * *

**Even though this part isn't very long, it took me ages to write; I didn't want to break Sherlock's character too much. Realistically, I know that he wouldn't date because he wanted to, but ****_I_**** want him to date so I wrote it in. Anyway, I hope I haven't made him too romantic, soppy or whatever...**

**Thanks for reading. **

**Benny x**


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